An Ode to Packing

I did not know I had so many clothes,

Or so many shoes and so many bows.

The scarves and the coats add up too,

Oh what is my poor little luggage to do?

Then come the books, jewelry, and bags,

Still the more I add, the more my suitcase sags.

Two months abroad seems quite long,

But not wearing cute clothes seems just wrong!

What about my computer and iPod and phone?

How will these fit? It is simply unknown…

Oh wait…I see the light.

I know the solution for my flight!

I will swim to the island, no take a boat!

And then bring all my objects to keep afloat.

Because I need that black dress and some skirts,

And I want to bring about 30 shirts.

Of course I’ll wear heels, flats, and maybe tennis shoes?

There just is NO WAY for me to choose.

Excuse me, what did you say?

A cruise to Ireland would take 12 days!

Well. That changes things a little bit.

My wardrobe just took a hard hit.

I guess two 50 pound bags will have to do.

And a carry on, and personal bag too ;)

*This is a joke. I am not an idiot. But packing is literally making me crazy.*

Oh dear. At least it's all clean.

Tick-Tock

Time is ticking.

I have less than a week to pack, organize, and prepare for the trip to Ireland. I’ve also become a perpetual list-taking-note-maker. I’m nervous, I’m excited; I’m ready, I’m not; I’m organized and yet a complete mess. But, this is what I expected.

I briefly spoke with my host mother on the phone for about three minutes last week. She has a legitimate fast-pace Irish accent. I mean, I knew that…but when I heard her mention “15 to 20 Euros for a taxi” with that foreign twang I couldn’t help but smile. Ireland! The excitement hit all over again.

Now I’m sitting, and waiting.

The phone will ring within the next thirty minutes. Amy with CCI will call and go over my pre-departure orientation. We will discuss questions and last minute details so my adventure can begin.

So. I’m still sitting and waiting, clutching a red pen and a yellow pad of paper. The TV is blaring commercials and my dog is snoring. It’s a lazy summer day in VA and the rest of the house is quiet.

Tick-Tock.

I think there’s 20 minutes left. My finger runs down the list of questions I need to ask; fourteen total. Is there anything I could have forgotten? Well yes, probably but I guess there is always email.

Tick- Tock.

Dear Phone,

Please ring.

Thanks,

An Anxious Brit

Adventures Past and Future

“Bow to your partner.
Now bow to your corner.
Take your partner’s hand.”

I have never been a country girl. Cowboy hats always seemed more like a prop from an old western movie and less like a fashion accessory. Country music makes me cringe, especially the poppy, southern yodeling one can often find on a random radio station. And living in the country itself? No, no. Not for me. Not for the girl who loves people and cities. It’s fine for others; don’t get me wrong…but not me.

Yet, here I was on a Friday night in early June at a barn dance. A man with a southern twang calls steps for the next move. Over 100 people are standing in or near the entrance of the old wooden barn.

It’s humid and sticky. My cotton dress was the lightest article of clothing I had packed, yet I am still burning up. Then again so is everyone else. My hair is a mess of frizzy curls and I haven’t been wearing shoes for the last two hours. I look down at my dirty feet and smile.

Now from what I’ve just written, you would think I would find this appalling, maybe even revolting. But of course…I love it.

Half of the barn before the dancing begins

For five days this past week I went to visit Montreat, North Carolina. This small, Presbyterian-based community doubles as a conference center and college campus. During the summers, Montreat also becomes a day camp for pre-school aged children through high school teenagers. I worked here last summer, helping to run the day camp or “clubs.”

I never came here as a child like the majority of the staff. But my good friend Alice and her family were avid Montreat-goers. Her parents met at a barn dance, her family owns houses on Montreat property, and she grew up participating in clubs. Last year she asked both me and our mutual friend Kelley to join her and spend a summer in the hills of NC.

I had visited briefly before and couldn’t resist the opportunity.

Mountains of North Carolina.

“Now raise your free hand.
If you’re raisin’ your right hand, you’re a right.
If you’re raisin’ your left hand, you’re a left.
That’s how we call the steps.”

I looked around the crowded barn as we prepared to “promenade”. I remember the first time I came to one of these dances, nearly four years ago on my second visit to Montreat. I had expected to be annoyed. I had assumed there would be cowboy hats, cowboy boots and horrifying music. I also was prepared to feel out of place and excluded from the many Montreat traditions that some practice from birth.

Yet Alice, her family, and her friends partnered with me and taught me the important steps and customs for both line and novelty dances. Alice assured me that I would not be out of place, and promised not to wander far from my possibly very embarrassing first attempts.

Now, four years later I am glad they proved me wrong. I am so happy to have had the opportunity to work and visit Montreat, understand its funny little customs, and appreciate its people. It’s not the country; it’s a mountain retreat. There are not many cowboy hats, and if there were I would have to deal with it, because that would be the Montreat way. One of my favorite aspects of this community is that there is not one type of person. There are not just republicans, or democrats, or visitors, or regulars. They are a congregation of many. Last year I found myself standing with an independent, vegetarian, pacifist and a pro-gun, republican, meat-eater. And it was great.

Some of the helpful dance instructors...

“Bow to your partner.
Bow to your corner.
And bow to the Stony Creek Boys.”

We applaud as the barn dance comes to an end and then pile in all sorts of vehicles to go to Blue Cone for milkshakes and ice cream. I already know nearly 30 people will be in line before we even park, but I can’t help but smile as we weave through mountain roads to complete a traditional Friday night.

I’m sad I will only visit Montreat once this summer, but Ireland is fast approaching and new experiences are waiting to be made. In less than two weeks, I will be participating in a different adventure, meeting diverse people, and learning more about myself in an unknown atmosphere.

But of course a visit to Montreat must be made every summer.

Me, Alice, and Kelley stopping by Blue Cone after the barn dance.

Questions Answered

Ireland Update:

The job and host family information has at last been delivered! Days of checking my email incessantly can finally come to an end.

Today, when I least expected it, I got a response from Amy at CCI with the final details of my trip. It’s exactly one month before my departure, so I was glad to read “Host Family Placement” in my inbox.

For those of you reading this for the first time, I am traveling to Ireland for a two month summer internship. I have just found out that I will be working at Lifetimes Newspaper, assisting with writing, layout, and photography. From what I can tell it will mostly be work in classified sections or advertisements. Of course, I won’t know until the first day what to expect!

The office is located in Philsboro, Dublin 7 and I begin work Tuesday, June 30^th at 10am. At first I thought I would have to start the internship immediately after getting off the plane, because I will be arriving Monday opposed to the typical arrival on Saturday or Sunday. Luckily, the employer was fine with me starting on a Tuesday. Thank goodness… I’m going to be exhausted and five hours off of my normal time zone.

My host family lives in Finglas, Dublin 11 in an area called Charlestown. I will be living with Mrs. Valerie Hays and Mr. Kieran Hayes. They have two children – one 12 year old named Sean and one 6 year old named Eve. I’m excited they have kids, and their residence seems to be only about 15 to 20 minutes away from my office by public bus transportation.

Speaking of Ireland, it’s been raining a lot in Virginia again. I know this is good for farmers and such but now the pool is open and I am so done with the lack of sun. Since I don’t have any Ireland picture yet, I’ll share this one:

Baxter the Basset Hound had surgery recently and we didn't want his stiches to get wet. Unfortunately, with one umbrella I was not as lucky.

Where Are You Going?

Ever thought of interning, volunteering, or studying abroad?

As many of you know, my Ireland trip is fast approaching. In six weeks time I will be flying over the Atlantic, headed for the unknown. Several people have asked how I found an internship and host family for two months, without going over $5,000. Here is my research:

The program I am going through is the Center for Cultural Interchange, or CCI. Founded in 1985, this company helps over 7,000 students annually travel abroad. They also have a strong interest in volunteering and environmental awareness.

Of all the organizations aimed at college students, this was both the most affordable and flexible. There are no set program dates; you pick the weeks that fit your schedule. I never received a single automated email or voicemail, and worked closely with one consultant throughout the whole signing up process.

Each summer during my college years I wanted to be in a different place. Freshman year I stayed at Christopher Newport University and lived the beach bum life while taking classes. Sophomore year I went to North Carolina for the majority of my break and worked as a camp counselor in the mountains of Montreat. Finally, I have the chance to travel internationally.

For those of you also interested in being submersed into a new culture, volunteering, or studying abroad, CCI may be a helpful tool. With over 30 countries to choose from, you can travel around the world.

Good Luck!

You Know It's the End of the School Year When...

I have too many exams to actually write a full post, but I thought a little blog update was in order. My junior year in college is coming to a close (yikes) and exam week here brings out some interesting behavior…

You know it’s the end of the school year when…

1. Every student is walking around, facing the ground and holding random sheets of paper, cramming last minute notes into their brain before exams.

2. Not only can you not find a study room at the library, but you also can’t find an available printer, computer…or seat.

3. You can no longer see the floor to your room but you justify this by saying “Well, I’m moving out in a week anyways.”

4. Laundry really needs to be done. But again, this can be justified (see question #3).

5. You find yourself eating the most random things because there is no point in going to the store if you have to leave in a few days. Peanut butter, turkey, and pita bread isn’t that bad.

6. If you sleep, your hours have shifted from about 4am till 9am. Some days it’s better, some days it’s worse.

7. The phrase “You trying to pull an all-nighter?” has become cliché.

8. People’s Facebook statuses talk about how much they love Adderall.

9. Trips to 7-11 for Slurpies seems exhilarating. This has become the highlight of your weekend.

10. You have no…more…money. And the money you had went to printing points.

11. “Work parties” are common, whatever that means.

12. There has been a noticeable increase in the amount of cigarettes people consume.

13. Headphones, Pandora, and coffee are essential elements to the work environment.

14. Showering is an option. Well, maybe it always is.

15. Your house is not clean, the vacuum cleaner is broken, and the windows no longer stay up by themselves. But trying to fix these things seems pointless, and you don’t have the time anyways. So, you learn to embrace it. Love that college life you lead.

Embracing college.

Letting Go Great Gatsby Style

There is always a magical feeling when summer is in the air. Winter’s icy edge is almost gone; only a harsh breeze might dare remind you of those cold months. Spring’s sun warms your face, but it too has an edge. This thought crossed my mind last weekend when I was actually hot for the first time all season.

The past two weeks we have been blanketed by gloomy clouds and sporadic rainstorms that always began at the worst possible moment. But last Sunday, at least for a few hours, warm weather made a brief appearance.

Floppy hat? Check.

Puffy dress? Check.

Ribbon? Check.

I stomped around my messy room throwing items of clothing into a duffle bag. My mental check list had become hazy, so I just assumed everything had been packed. Several of us CNU students were headed to Annapolis, Maryland for a weekend and we were preparing to leave in ten minutes. I am always grateful that I’m a fast packer because procrastination has become the norm.

Packing for the trip to Maryland

Why the hats, dresses, stockings, and ribbon? Each year Annapolis has a croquet match between St. John’s College and Navy, two prominent schools in the city. Most attendants dress as though they have walked out of the pages of “The Great Gatsby,” with old-fashioned outfits and accessories. Of course I wanted to play along, and so did the rest of the CNU crowd.

When we arrived ten minutes before one o’clock that Sunday afternoon, more than a thousand people covered St. John’s main lawn. Tents were lined along the edges of the three croquet matches, and smells of alcohol and grilled food mixed together into a wonderful aroma that reminded me of summer cookouts and lazy days of adolescence, when the biggest decision one had to make all day was what bathing suit to wear. Maybe that seems spoiled to say, but the existence of an imaginative 13 year old who “never wanted to grow up” is long gone. Yet the chance to relax and disappear into a pretend world had presented itself once again. My nostalgic mind was captivated.

The group of CNU students dresses for croquet

I was in a new atmosphere, but felt at home and comforted by the pleasant environment. Thoughts of papers, speeches, and exams slipped from my mind until these concerns were hardly even present. Yearning to live in a world with no responsibility would be inexcusable, but letting go for an afternoon can be so beneficial.

More Photos from the Weekend's Events:

"Tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning-- So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Soup of the Day

“How’s the form?”
“Good, but I have a mouth on me…”

My sister and I huddled around the computer, reading through Irish vocabulary. We scanned several pages of interesting slang, and spoke with our best Irish accents, which, by the way, were horrible.

As I looked at the foreign phrases and words, a thought occurred to me: I may not be speaking a different language, but I will definitely still be learning the strange vernacular of another country. Since I am staying with a host family, their way of speaking will be native and left unhindered. Maybe after eight weeks, I will be able to produce a better Irish accent and become indifferent to the phrase “can I bum a fag?”

Easter was this weekend so I packed my duffle, filled a garbage bag full of laundry, and drove down 64W towards Richmond. The sun warmed me and my roommate through the open sunroof and windows. Good hair days were forgotten and we ventured home happily, aided by music and laughter.

After the service that Sunday at church, my youth minister from high school approached me. Mom had told him about my adventure to Ireland for next summer. White hair covered his head, and glasses rest on his nose. He is over six tall, and throughout high school could be quite intimidating. But now I can only see him for his smiles.

“Dublin!? Oh Ireland. Need someone to carry your bags or something while you’re over there?”

I explained the internship and my plans. You could see him mentally constructing a list of tips and advice he had discovered from his trip there.

“Get the soup. I’m a picky eater, and the soup…,” he winked and gave a thumbs up. “Can’t go wrong with the soup.”

This is the kind of advice I need - something practical and easy to remember. Now every pub I eat at, I’m going to ask their soup special of the day.

A cup of chicken noodle? No. Just coffee...which, by the way,
I hear in Ireland, they drink tea. Oh dear.