sara and i have arrived in brussels, unashamedly looking only for chocolate and waffles.. but, come to think of it, now that day 1 of 3 is coming to a close in our hostel near the city center, we haven't had either and all we've managed is a salad or so, some dry pasta, stella artois beer (brewed right here), and a can of fruit coctail that someone left behind in the kitchen :-) so far we're off to a great start, i think! tomorrow our mission is to find another place to stay for the night, and bop about surviving on chocolate, strong beer, and possibly cheap shopping.. that is, if we can finally figure out how to use the public transportation. this is a friendly city, packed with loads of small places to eat and quaint architecture that's been crammed together for centuries. there are plenty of iron balconies and graffitti, dogs on local trams and cheap baps and kebabs around every turn (though somehow we managed to spend roughly 11 eu. each at lunch today.. but it was worth it to finally be in the SUN!! in our sweaters). bummer, pasta is ready and my beer is being eyed by another free internet user. if i can squeeze another visit online later, i certainly will, but we're leaving in about a day and a half so this might also serve as my goodbye from our lovely little getaway.

if you want belgian chocolate, i'll try to bring some back, but .. ehm.. to be honest, its chances of surviving back to the states are slim.

:-) k

as i should have expected, very little has worked out this summer in the ways that seemed possible at first. there were a few changes in work, not being able to be in at the pottery as often as i would have liked due to slow business, recently being let go from the bistro that i had been at last summer and this summer because a friend of the manager's needed my hours after being fired from his position at another restaurant in town (which, after much panicking on my part and crying out the injustice at the pub two nights in a row, is the position i now hold. i hunted down his empty space at that local restaurant and took it. ha.). this new place is the first time that i've really had to grin and bear it, reminding myself through crappy customers, disgustingly prepared food, the most piggish of bosses i've ever encountered (eats off of plates about to leave the kitchen as well as those recently cleared off of tables.. comes into the kitchen to talk at the cook as an excuse to eat) and a medieval festival this past weekend that landed me in a large men's costume of king arthur's.. complete with shoe covers and a faux chain mail hood.. "any veg here? more gravy? finished with the gravy here folks?".. that 'it's just a job, it's just a job, it's just a job'

this in itself is frustrating because i'm beginning to dread the end of this summer and what it will mean. another shift in my living situation, searching for another job/place to live once i return home, having to part with friends here, having to part with sara -one of the closest friends i've ever known- for an indefinite amount of time, contemplating grad school, paying back loans... and settling once and for all on this being the last summer that i spend here. because of this new funeral-home-like restaurant and my stay only being a few weeks longer, i hate knowing that i am simultaneously hanging on to what time i have and encouraging it to go faster. not to mention with the weather beginning to shift here i find it hard to sleep at all... it's hard to believe that such a place could possibly be MORE damp.. and yet the bread is soggy every morning so there's no denying it (however, the scones that i've been serially kidnapping from a freezer that we share with a neighboring cafe stay pleasurably moist until baked.. ooor until i decide to leave them raw and just pick out the raisins).

i was talking with a friend the other day, nico from slovakia, about our past and things that we have done with our time and felt as though it was well spent and life-affirming. for him, the point in his life when he felt this most intensely was when he was working as a stuntman ten years ago, riding horses, jousting and swordfighting across europe and occasionally for american movies {nico is a very romantic character, calling all girls 'princess' and all boys 'warrior' and always believing in the power of adventure (and wonder, believe it or not, parents)}. currently he is working for a nearby adventure center, moving kids around the hillside or sea all day long. the other day, however, he helped to set up a large tent for a local wedding and as he sat in the tent on his lunch break, was reminded of the tents that he would have to set up for his stuntman job almost daily. i taught him the word 'nostalgic' and we talked about how it isn't necessarily a sad or happy feeling.. it just is.

carlingford just is to me now. i feel as though i know it inside and out, have watched it grow and evolve and devolve and break down and refuse to change and attempt to change... though not necessarily for the better. though there are still some here that would like carlingford to remain a picturesque little town on the seaside, ideal for weddings and weekend escapes, the amount of housing developments and gift shops that have infested the countryside are upsetting and the obvious hunger of the local residents to assimilate to all the 'worldliness' that dublin and belfast now have is off-putting. i thought to myself on a long walk yesterday afternoon while obsessively hunting wild blackberries along the mountain trail (as is SO hard for me to avoid this time of year) that carlingford is like the enormous berries that sit in clumps -inevitably behind stinging nettles, aaaargh- almost over-ripe, on the verge of bursting, asking to be picked... and yet, they're impossible to seperate from the vine. part of this berry wants to grow, but something inside it sabotages the plan and holds it in place. its only fate is to be disappointedly squished in half by greedy fingers of a stressed-out immigrant worker. and i've lost myself.

i need to wrap this up because i'm definitely monopolizing the use of this computer in the home of my polish friends (that and their oompa-oompa music makes it quite hard to form proper sentences, so i apologize if i've been a bit awkwardly wordy, i most likely got lost partway through that thought.. as i just did again.. right now) but before i go i need to mention that a) sara and i are planning on leaving the country for a few days, possibly to belgium or amsterdam b)unfortunately i won't be able to make it to the donkey derby this year. bummer c)though i have felt more and more distant from carlingford as a whole this year, i do feel as though i've gotten to know more of the people that really matter in this town - the immigrant workers - and, though i've seen the discrimination before, now that i've experienced it firsthand (having partially been let go for befriending the polish workers in the kitchen) and been able to talk with people that have dealt with it all of their lives, it has become embedded in the forefront of my mind. my skin crawls when i hear about tips not being evenly distributed or hours being 'left out' of timecards.. which i am thankful for in a way; i have always wanted to feel this passionate about a cause and here we are, i've had my wish granted. i spend a lot of my time with friends of various cultural backgrounds helping them learn english little by little, and have consequently started to consider this as a possible career path as well (as well as whatever else i imagine i'd like to accomplish throughout the course of any given day. still haven't quite given up on the idea of making organic granola bars in australia, but my friend jesus, aka blaise {irish}, said the other day that he doens't think australia would fit me. fine. new zealand it is.).

oh dear. this house is starting to smell like dirty smoke. time to go! i love you all very much and will speak to/see you soon. thank you so much for your emails, you can be sure that i've read them tonight and will hopefully find many hours in the coming weeks to reply.. or maybe i'll talk with you face-to-face in 5 weeks. :) we'll see!

~please keep brooke blough and her family in your thoughts and prayers for the tragic and sudden passing of her father~

-karis

arg. things never quite work out the way that you imagine they might, do they? looks like my supposed internet hookup fell through again briefly, and my phone access has also been hindered for a spell.. it's strange how lack of communication (and eating stolen scones too late at night, i guess) can leave me with the strangest dreams. i've been waking up shouting at the top of my lungs lately and am so grateful that it hasn't disturbed sara (not that a bartendress has early daytime work hours). last night i talked with a goose as it was being prepared for dinner.. alive.. and it was my job to find the proper ingredients for stuffing. the severity of its feathers being plucked left one wing broken and as i tried to adjust the wing back into place to ease her comfort, she issued some stinging, snarky comment that caused me to wake up bawling. huh. the fact that i had spent a few boring minutes at the bistro spacing out into the disturbingly ugly faces of some of the fish that are served there might not have helped.. or that i spent a few heartfelt minutes chatting with the live lobsters before they were put into the murderous boiling water in shifts. thankfully one of the friendly polish guys in the kitchen corrected the way that i was holding the lobsters... dangit. my time just ran out. really, really.. in one of the next few days i should get a nice long jaunt through the internet world - at which point i will leave a lengthy entry. at long, long last.

love you, thinking of you, thank you for the few brave souls that have attempted snail mail - i got them and regularly roll happily in your words.

-karis

bummer. once again i am out of time. this is abysmal and i promise improvement and progression in the coming weeks as i gain control of my various schedules, my wallet, and my new friends with internet that only charge me in homemade crackers (that i will go ahead and toot my own horn about - TOOT! - are damn fine and occasionally flavored with delicious tuscan spices though my favorites are still the fresh rosemary).

crap. really am out of time. new entry coming in the next week. you have my work! i mean word! hah.

love you all, thinking of you daily!
-karis

of course, i only have a few minutes to crank all of this out, so i aoologize in advance for spelling errors. i'm not looking up.

things are getting vaguely busier around here.. but i still can't afford to use the internet more than once a week. bah.

i've found that thanks to a few rare, sunny mornings (the sun begins to rise around 3:30am and i'm up at 8:30) and a pleasant little sunlight in my room i've literally begun to 'tan' in my sleep!

i know that i said this last year, there's no need to point it out, but due to a few factors that have already come to my attention, i am certain that this will be my last summer (in a row) here. i am feeling quite aged.. quite seasoned here (and, as the locals say, "you stay long enough.. you become one of us") and though it is and always will be a lovable cesspool of another home to me, i'm ready for something very different.. or so i figured after i excited myself in the supermarket the other day daydreaming about working for an organic granola bar company in australia and how much that might matter to the future of the universe.

the bistro is the same save for a few new people. naturally i am befriending those that no one else talks to.. the polish and lithuanian people. it has only lasted two days, but i've already endured an evening i hope not to forget. last night i returned from the bistro around 11.15, changed into my jammies and read in the windowsil overlooking the nearest pub. not too much later, a crowd of people in their mid to late 30's came dancing and singing down the street, stopping to mingle and dance witha few bartenders that ...

..crap, i'm out of time. this will have to be part 1.. maybe i can scrape up a little money to finish this in the next few days.. or tomorrow, as my schedule is unfortunately very free!
love, k

oh lord. no time for capitals or responding to emails because i just finished reading them after not being able to afford a half hour in the internet cafe this entire week.. i'm so sorry. i'll make up for it in the future whenever things start to look a little more active around here. i've spent most of my time these past few days preparing food.. walking about.. belly dancing in my room.. reading.. painting my nails and removing the color, sitting at one of the few local bars with sara or waiting for sara to finish her shift... i've been going mad. raving. i don't deal with boredom well, but now that the pottery finally needs my help again, i can actually be on my feet for a good portion of the day.

erg! there's a few ideas i've been working on that i don't really want to bullet point just yet because i think they might flow together nicely eventually.. but here's a taste.

the other day sara and i were walking along the sea, whining and complaining about the crap weather to the sound of a chorus of god-sneezed-into-place sheep... and suddenly the bleeting of the sheep made sense: ::wind:: spitting rain::... GUST!:: biting wind:: "MEEEEEHHHH!!! MEEEEHH!" it's the sound that one can't help but make in that crap weather.

dang! have to run! i love you, i miss you all, i'm very safe, fear not, very poor for now, and only recently have access to a phone, so i'll get on that as soon as i feel welcome.

the most important thing i'd like to mention before i'm kicked out of here in 54321 is that i'm confidently passed the infatuation stage with ireland. my travels here this summer have felt more on autopilot than desire, and i did feel slightly trapped on this roller coaster at first.. but as i've forced myself out of our flat i've been reminded of the things that annoy me and the things that i do genuinely still love.. which is comforting to come to realize because i know it's real and i'm no longer stuck in a romantic mist.

i hope to talk to you soon, whenever i can afford a half hour again!
-k

"At last I can say that I am perfect
...well at least part of me is.
My thyroid cancer scans came back clear as a bell,
clean as a whistle,
and any other simile you can think of!"

amen

Aaaahhh, a keyboard I know and love.

-And a happy 2008 to all! I hope the festivities were to your liking and that the send-off of 2007 went smoothly. It was tough being away from my family for both Christmas and the New Year but hopefully I'll be seeing them in a few hours... that is, if my horoscope doesn't come true and I don't explode as it says I'm going to. Oh God.

I would love to give you a big, lengthy wrap-up of these past few months and how I've grown and changed and etc etc etc but - 1. Last night was very, very late.. tonight is very, very late and my brain feels like sopping wet cotton 2. That deserves a whole lot more thought than I've been able to afford these past few days and I'd rather not cheapen what I gather by attempting to crank out snippets now.

Instead, I'll give you some awkward ramblings that have been knocking about my brain for the past few weeks. I would love to write a nice, long, stapled paper about the matter, but I'm dying for a soft bed before the unfriendly plane, so... bear with me, it might not make much sense. Yet. Or ever.

My impending graduation from college this coming April - not to mention the inevitable birthday that brings me solidly to 'twenty-something' status - has me mulling thoughts of 'growing-up', finding a 'real job'.. and accepting and allowing and encouraging the growth of this person that I have become, hoping that I will continue to change with my experiences in the future. Now that I have definitely left my cocoon and given flying a try, I cannot possibly be a caterpillar any longer... but I don't like that analogy so much anymore. I've come to believe that the term 'adult' is largely an illusion. True, by now/then we have (hopefully) learned from many mistakes, allowed our personalities to blossom and have gathered some useful life skills.. but that doesn't really stop us from remaining 'children' essentially, does it? Oh, that could go in so many directions, but I'll try to keep it as simple as possible at this hour for the sake of sleeping soon.

What makes children children besides age and size? Inexperience? Runny noses? Unease at new and different things? Sticky hands? Temper tantrums? Naivete? Couldn't that also be simply a list of a few of the wonderful things that make us human? - ignore the noses and hands, Smartass - Do those really change as we age or are people merely conditioned to control and manipulate the appearance of those feelings?

Sara and I spent time in the exhibit of the restored Gedachtniskirche in Berlin - floored by the mosaics, larger-than-life marble Jesus, and photos of the church before it was bombed out in the final days of WWII. Had I not been pressed against a pillar and moving slowly with the herd, I could have burst into tears at the sight of the before and after photographs... and for some reason all I could think was, "What an extraordinary sandcastle to be so horrendously knocked down." In a way, that IS what happened - these people, these grown children, had an argument that they couldn't settle and so resorted to what they knew - reacting violently to show they were angry/meant business - smashing through each others hard work.. and it escalated in an irreversible, hideous way.

After spending some time working with children who already had some very 'grown' opinions fully-formed and stubbornly attached to their very beings, I often found myself wondering who, in that student's life, was more child-like? These 8-year-olds stealing pencils and insulting the life out of each other.. or the parents/guardians who refuse not to perpetuate this playground intolerance? When I reminded these kids - when they all claimed to be at least some form of Christian - that we are ALL children of God ("Ach, missus, everyone knows THAT!") - it pinched me that Christianity perpetuates this lifelong childhood as well. It's how we are supposed to come to Jesus, right? The heart of a child? What's the difference? Sara shared that one of the common German exclamations of outrage at others is literally translated, "Child of Man!" - almost suggesting that whoever incited the anger is childlike and therefore inferior.

I can't waste much more time delving into whether being 'childish' or 'childlike' is positive or negative (or if those two words truly are different in meaning) but.. to bring it on home for now..

What is the point in worrying about growing up if we're never actually going to do it anyway? We will always fight and argue and sing and giggle and there will always be intolerance and misunderstandings because we're human. There aren't stages, we're just part of an undulating continuum! All we have to do is accept the responsibilities as they come in order to be considered 'grown up' - and hopefully maintain some of those wide-eyed, enthusiastic moments because, though age keeps increasing, we are still those little 'us-es' at the root of it all.

Huh. Well, not the most organized way to start a year, but eh, as my mother says, it's a process. That's me for bed! I hope to see many of you very soon.. think of me between the Irish hours of 10:35am and 7pm (that's 4:35am to 1pm Chicago time) and please cross your fingers for me to make it home safely if you've got a moment!

Karis

alriiight. back for another round, though i canät be sure iäll be able to get it all out this time, either! before i go anz further (because iäm not quite sure where i left off last week), i wanted to include a snippet of an email that i received from sara, the friend i am currentlz visiting, regarding berlin. i think is an important addition to what i#ve alreadz said about derry:


"there are so many parallels between what
>> you're experiencing and what i see here in the city. no, the division
>> in germany wasn't as bloody as the division in ireland. but it has dug
>> itself into the german mindset just as heavily, if not moreso (germans,
>> just as with everything else, are very thorough in their prejudices and
>> discriminations). the opera house where i work is in the former east,
>> and i'm surrounded by a combination of imposing neoclassical
>> architecture and the curious soviet "plattenbau" apartments. the other
>> intern i work with is from west germany, and the way he throws around
>> "ossi" terminology is rather crass. i feel like every time i witness a
>> marital row at my family friends place, it is centered in the core
>> differences of east-west mentalities. it is so disheartening that
>> peoples' principles, good or bad isn't even the question, are still
>> causing so much unnecessary heartache. why are there teachers in derry
>> who don't believe in what they're teaching? why was my history course
>> taught by someone with such a pointedly pro-western stance? where does
>> that leave those of us who don't quite know where they can be
>> categorized, or don't want to be?"


itäs even more interesting now that iäve had a chance to experience the citz in all itäs ... survival through disfunction. itäs difficult for me to describe, having onlz been here a week, but i knew within 45 minutes of staring out mz first few bus windows that i would need a lot more than 2.5 weeks to begin to understand this place as more that just a tourist (and of course it doesnät help that the onlz german i knew and know besides "danka" is ...tentativelz spelled.. "meine braußt wartzen explodeiren mit freude!").

i do feel that mz ticket here was an incrediblz well spent bit of monez. i have tasted so manz sausages, been verz kindlz hosted at menno-heim, am well fed and shopped, discovered some deliciouslz cheap boxed glüwein, have been treated to so manz christmas markets, a turkish market, experienced a painfullz cold visit to one of the most horrifzing concentration camps in oranienburg, and, last night, sat in the 6th row of the staatsoperaäs performance of the marriage of figaro.

dang, running out of time again! things are closing down here for the holidazs, so i think our christmas will be spent in the basement of menno-heim, having a private raclette partz with plentz of glüwein and perhaps some dutch babz if mz dad ever responds to mz email! love zou verz much and a verz merrz christmas to all!

okaz, iäve got to go quicklz because i tried this a few dazs ago and right as i was about to submit, mz cpomputer shut down after exactlz one hour on this german computer.. accurate down to the second i sat down in this smokez, smokez room!

iäll also apologiye for the terrible tzping - the differences in the kezboards arenät that great, but it takes the few extra minutes that i just donät have right now to take the time and .. etc etc etc!

so far, the onlz negative about berlin is the amount of smoke that is EVERZWHERE. saraäs got a theorz that people are making the most of being able to smoke indoors in the last weeks of 2007 before the smoking ban is applied here... and ack, iäd believe it!

iäve onlz been here a week, but it feels like longer.. in a good waz. time is absolutelz flzing - partiallz because iäm in a brand new place and thereäs so manz things to explore and figure out.. and partiallz because iäm around incredible friends that i have missed terriblz these past few months. i have learned to never again underestimate the positive effects of just being around people that allow zou to feel known and loved.

which reminds me, the night before i left for germanz, i spent the night at the dublin airport out of convenience and for a few of those hours, sat at the arrivals gate and studied the reactions of people running into each other again.. wondering how long it had been, if i could figure out what their reactions might be based on their appearance or how anxious thez looked.. and i realiyed that a good amount of time had passed that i hadnät touched mz ipod or attempted to separate mzself from the surrounding human life.. which is something i havenät done in a long, long time. derrz is a verz disconnected place!!! gotta go!!

love zoU!!

It's finally time to leave here -
I meant to write a longer entry, but that will have to wait. I've spent far too much time walking, packing, reading, and staring at the wall at the end of my bed to be able to spend much longer on the computer at this hour. As usual, I am up in the middle of the night, packing my temporary life into two suitcases that each weigh more that me - they're almost living travel companions at this point. I love packing up - watching my surroundings and life as i know it simultaneously come together and fall apart - unravel into place, if you will. but I've found I'm not quite as used to saying goodbye as i thought... i'm just getting better at denial.

More to come once I'm settled in the South again in a matter of days.

love and miss you ~ karis

right.so. i apologize for takinng so long to post and for doing it now, on my host dad's laptop.. which is missinng the N and ! keys and only capitalizes oN occasioN. huh.. got the n, there..

i have begun my work placement with the Verbal Arts Centre (hey, it worked!N) in derry, and at this point am nearly finished. i'm back in at work tomorrow morning at 9 to do a workshop, work all week, thursday night we will perform for the mayor of derry (and whoever else shows up for the dainty "finger-buffet") the pieces we have been learning at our tin whistle lessons on tuesdays and the small bit of irish dancinng we have picked up on fridays. then it's off to corymeela along the antrim coast for thanksgiving, and a weekend of hiking and dining at the giant's causeway hotel... and the following week i'm done. done.

no, i'm not quite sure i'm ready to leave yet.. but when will i ever be? leaving here will be more difficult than other departure i've had to make recently because i'm certain i won't be drawn back here in a good wee while. ha, wee. they've infiltrated my vocabulary again. i have grown attached to my family here - i have found a comfortable niche. i do feel appreciated and loved annd could easily settle here if it was required of me, but that's just it. it's not, and i'm eager to remind myself of that.. of my freedom, optionns, and abilities. at first i felt guilty about these feelings, but i'm growing into them and am ready for what's next.

BUT (!) until then, i should tell you what is currently happening. i walk to work every morning, down those blasted roads, past the burnt-out buildings and along the cannon-dotted walls overlookinng the bogside that a few of you so recently experienced. it takes about 20 minutes walking briskly, but i'm never quite prepared for the wind.. and therefore spend an extra 5 minutes in the bathroom when i first arrive at the verbal arts centre, the top of the hill, blowing my nose and cleaning up the mascara that has found its way to my cheeks. the large glass doors swing open to a two-story reception room - the hallway on the 2nd floor is a balcony overlooking the reception's hand-designed tiled floor (louis le brocquy). when i first came to meet my employers, i was told i'd be co-facilitating school sessions and helping to prepare for these workshops. it turns out i spend most of my time photocopying, laminating, printing, cutting out, filing and hole-punching. i don't feel as though this is the sort of work i was made for (or that any person is made for, really). however, i asserted this the other day after temporarily busting the printer, using all available paper in the copier and jamming it twice, and, on my 243rd pencil (or so), melting the pencil sharpener. once it stopped smoking and everyone in the office (about 7 other people, one of whom is blind) had a chance to inspect it and chuckle, my superior, sarah, handed me a tiny, blue plastic sharpener and said, "get to work." sigh. the laminator broke later that day and they tried to blame it on me... don't worry, i made up for it. melted that on friday.

when i do get a chance to go into schools to co-facilitate, i really only help pass out pencils and papers (or collect them, oOo!).. or help illustrate a point that my co-facilitator is making by simply being american. most of these programmes are designed as 4-week courses, where we meet with two schools, one from either "side", once a week, and discuss sectarianism, discrimination, how they've come to associate flags, sport jerseys and other cultural paraphernalia - to name a few - with different meanings. for instance, sarah will hold up the union flag after the children (usually between the ages of 7 and 11) have had a chance to discuss it. they will tell her that it represents the loyalist community and therefore protestants. sarah will then break down the three crosses that construct the flag (st. george's, st. andrew's, st. patrick's) and explain that it is therefore for everyone, that she is a protestant and would not consider herself a loyalist and etc etc etc along those lines. the children are, predictably, flabbergasted. oh, right. being american. i assist in proving that not all american stereotypes are correct after our stereotyping activity - yes, i'm blonde, but i am not skinnny and tall, nor am i obese. no, i am not rich. no, i do not support war. no, i don't have a gaming system or wear only lingerie or laugh all day long or want to become a doctor or live anywhere near california.

at the beginning of each programme, each student is asked to fill out a questionnaire that we call a baseline assessment. it starts out fairly easy, "how many brothers and sisters do you have?" and, "what is the name of your school?" but then gets a little trickier, "what would you consider yourself? - northern irish - british - irish - european - other" and,"do you believe that relations between protestants and catholics can be good?"... then goes straight to specifics, "what would you consider yourself? - protestant - catholic - other" "do you know anyone of another religion?" "how do you feel about the catholic/protestant community?"

this is the point at which i'm always discouraged. almost inevitably, each student "strongly dislikes" the opposing community right off the bat. by the end of the day, we can have them paired up and chuckling, tickling, teasing, enjoying each other's company. a week later, one of them will come back with a, "youse said this, but my granda says the white in the middle of the tricolour can't stand for peace because peace will never happen"... sigh ...and we'll be back at square one, the protestant kids wearing the grab bag rosary around their foreheads, giggling, the catholic children poking curiously at an orangeman's sash. by week 4, the children are fairly comfortable with each other - running to meet their new friends at their favourite table, writing down addresses to be pen pals... but at the end of the day they'll fill out their baseline assessments one more time and still manage to resort to their conditioned responses. "i strongly dislike the catholic community."

it would be easier to rise above this discouragement if my other co-facilitators could muster up any amount of belief in the change that these children are capable of. i've already grown accustomed to, "oh, thank god i don't teach anymore. can you imagine being shut in a classroom with those little devils all day long?" or "ugh, nasty little things. if only they ever learned something. but it will never change, not as long as their parents continue to raise them that way." they don't believe in the change they are capable of making as the facilitators of a boundary-crossing programme... how will they achieve any great differences in this lifetime? i could easily see myself working with an organization such as this... but i'm not sure i would want to try to fit in here, where i get the feeling that most employees are only dedicated to the work until the paycheque comes through.




as i was waiting for my 6th batch of 150 papers to finish copying the other morning, i looked out over the cityside and for once, was so grateful for the thick, white fog. it clouded out the hurt that is usually reflected in the community below; constantly under fire of these ancient cannons. it softened the scars on the nearby buildings and left comforting spots of nothingness where i'd usually expect to see red and blue or orange and green. everything in sight seemed awash in innocence. this is why i love walking to work before the sun rises - the city is sleeping.. it can forget what has happened, it can be lost in its dreams for a few more minutes.

i'll post again soon, for now i've got to go plan an alternative programme for a school that refuses to participate in the programmes we already have.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NWCxLKCOGE

alia, once again, thanks for the help when trying to decide what color scheme to go with on this site.. i think it's sharp.

and to chase, celesta, mom + dad and gramma + bup, thank you thank you thank you for the wonderful mail! i'm not sure how long ago it was all sent, but i received it in the last few days and i could not feel more spoiled. i don't have time to reply individually to you just yet, but i should by the end of this week when these papers are done - i just had to let you know that i got your mail at long last and that you can be assured that i have studied every letter of your letter at least three times. i'm sure i've said this before and will say it again, i didn't realize that i was missing your handwriting as well until now.

speaking of spoiled.. another thank you thank you thank you to the incredible people that went totally out of their way to visit me these past few days. i'm tearing up again just thinking about it.. i can't believe how lucky i am to have you. i need to apologize again for not being able to give you every second of my time during your visit and furthermore, for getting stressed out or snippy... or like a little mini professor (i'm sure you didn't realize there was that much to know about derry, and i'm sure that's not all you wanted to hear me spout the entire time!). for what it's worth, you totally lit up my life and i couldn't be more thankful to have seen your lovely faces. as i've told many people, i don't really get homesick.. i spend so much of my time and energy focusing on not missing anything while i'm here so as to make the most of it, etc.. but i don't realize how much i miss someone or something until it is triggered.. and i'm always surprised at how immense that feeling is.

*i'm sitting in the 24 hour computer lab on campus at school and it's nearing midnight. my aim was to get another paper done tonight, but that's probably not going to happen... but if i want to make significant progress yet i'll have to make this quick! not to mention i recently cut my finger while slicing apples and it occasionally starts bleeding all over the keyboard.. gross. ... gross.*


sara t, i wish we would have had more time to talk, of course. it did mean the world to just soak up your presence and hear sara-isms again. you really haven't changed, don't worry. i love your potty mouth. thank you for bringing tyler, too, i like that girl and you know how rare that is.

morgan and melissa, thank you for reminding me that it's my turn to visit next and for proving, as always, that nothing is impossible with kopecky determination :-) despite my stress-ballishness, i really do treasure the time we have together.. though i bet we can get louder and rowdier next time, wherever and whenever that may be. thank you for the source of inspiration and creativity in constant, little ways, and for reminding me not to take things so personally :-) oh, and what would you like me to do with this 2 gig hard drive?? :-/

and mom. i loved seeing you. loved it to the point of being thankful that i'm the only one in this computer lab so i don't have to worry about more of the irish public seeing me cry today (not to mention i was the only one on the bus back to derry for a while). and i'm sorry, i didn't anticipate sobbing on the streets of dublin, but i had been holding those back since the moment i saw you. the only way i know how to describe it is this - being far away from home, one occasionally has dreams that involve loved ones back where one left them. for me, when these dreams happen, the person's presence - their appearance, the sound of their voice, their touch on my arm - becomes more and more real. as this happens, i am gradually more and more aware that i am dreaming, and begin to realize that at any one of the approaching split-seconds, i will start to wake and the loved one will no longer be real, and i'll be left slightly panicked, disoriented; half-awake and feeling as though this person has been permanently stolen.. until i can fully rouse myself and know that it was a dream, convincing myself to settle back to sleep.

seeing you, mom, was surreal.. and i felt as though i was living in that HOLY CRAP!!! THE SECURITY GUARD JUST SCARED MY HEART INTO MY THROAT!!

anyway. i felt as though i was living in that terrible transition.. knowing i was dreaming and waiting for whichever one of the next split-seconds that was coming to take you back, and remind me that it wasn't real, and that i'm still a horrendous distance from home. it happened the instant i had to ask where my bus was this afternoon after running to find it. i flopped in my seat and let it go, feeling as though these past few days never happened. i'm sorry i didn't hug you more.



okay, this was meant to be brief and now i'm just getting messy! back to work on these damned papers!

once again, thank you to everyone for your constant support, encouragement and love over these past few months.. just a few more to go!
miss you and love you, i really do.

haha, imagine that in yoda's voice.

i'll see you soon, wherever you are.
karis

i only have time for a quick note -

this is a warning that for the next two weeks or so i might be increasingly difficult to contact, will be worse than usual at answering emails and will most likely be incredibly flustered throughout scarce contact. my classes are coming to an end along with my sanity as i attempt to crank out 4 papers in the next 10 days and somehow factor in many visitors/visits. please don't be too offended if i need to put you off for a few days.. i'll try to make up for it.

-k

p.s. - if anyone has sent mail to me recently (as in the past 20 days or so -including that package, parents), be aware that i might not have received it yet and that there's a possibility that i might never receive it. i recently discovered that royal mail has been on strike for some time now, and that a good amount of mail currently in limbo may never come out the other side. that includes letters that i have sent to the states. release me.

just a quick note to let you know i'm in dublin for the next 5 days for the "cultural experience" part of my programme. limited internet in hostel, i'm trying to reply to some emails by hand. i'll be swinging by carlingford/omeath this weekend for ciaran's b-day to babysit (and make dark chocolate cherry cupcakes!) on my way back to derry.

no, no news from north or south yet, girls. i'm about to bite the bullet and buy the berlin tickets anyway, but i need to hear from my parents how expensive it would be to change my return flight to the states in case it's an absolute no-go.

though dublin is incredibly diverse and "not very irish anymore," it's a breath of fresh (dirty, gritty, city) air down here. it's only been a month up there, but it's felt like a lot longer. will elaborate more asap.

k

just a quick note today, i've been on the computer doing nothing for way too long.

days are flying by, i just realized that it's about time for another two week's allowance from our programme director, which is a nice relief for my wallet but a shock to the system that i'm running out of time to get these papers done!
the weather is rather meh, with a touch of shrug or shudder, depending on the sun and its determination (or lack thereof) to shine. needless to say, the bottoms of my trousers are always wet and hanging them up inside does nothing to dry them... my towel begins to mold after a day or so, and i wake up constantly in the middle of the night because my ears are too cold and, of course, need to be mushed until warm.
i've recently discovered that hot water bottles can, indeed, be too hot to sleep with sometimes, that i make a damn fine loaf of gluten-free banana bread from scratch, raw cookie-dough eating is STILL not a good idea.. and no matter how many times i tell my host family that i am lactose intolerant, they will still try to feed me dairy: "well, you can't have milk, but what about cheese? you can't have just a touch of cream on that? don't you like my hot chocolate?"
sigh. my addiction to black coffee has almost reached an unhealthy level and no, gramma, i'm not eating enough protein.

every time the sun peeps through the clouds i'm reminded that my classes are almost over.. and that if i can just work through the next few weeks of paper writing, it'll be on to my placement, which i hope will be tons of fun (if everything pans out, i should be working with an organization called Playhouse, which offers a safe environment for children and adolescents to explore theatre and the arts while simultaneously supporting anti-sectarian learning!).

until then, i'm off to read about sir john lavery and eat plenty of banana bread while watching hollywood's rendition of the story of michael collins. again.

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in so long… Because the computer is often taken here, I tried something new and wrote out my entry in my real journal and am typing it up now.

I am nestled on my bed in the bedroom that I share with Natalie, listening to my youngest sister occasionally walk by her harp and strum a verse or two of Greensleeves. There is a nice beam of Sunday morning sun that’s coming through the rain-soaked fuchsia bushes and mini apple trees that separate us from our neighbours, the BBC Radio.

I think it goes without saying that the days fly by here, often in a flurry of books, handouts, endless trips to and from the kitchen, my host brother’s music buzzing through every wall in the house (“Boys Don’t Cry”.. anyone? anyone? 8 times in a row yesterday!), British fashion magazines, and my host siblings fighting. And no, they aren’t just arguments, they#’re full-out fights. Though there’s very little physical violence between them, they aim to kill with their words (I’m not sure if my oldest host sister has any other settings) and always manage to wound at least one other sibling in the process – an innocent bystander, a passing civilian. The latest explosion happened the other night, about 10 minutes after Trasa (oldest sister, 20, who, I might add, is still a legend in her old secondary school for having argued pro-Hitler because someone said she couldn’t – and winning) had returned from her holiday with friends in Portugal. She took a few steps into her room and could just *tell* that it had been trespassed upon while she was away.. and, sure enough, her hair straightener was left at a completely different angle (yes, haha parents, I know, but she takes it to a whole new – cruel – level). She came stomping down the stairs and pounded into the kitchen, searching out every sister and screaming that she knew they’d be lying, so they had better fess up. Within moments the perpetrator was narrowed down to the youngest sister, Carmel, whose portrait I was drawing at the time. Trasa knocked furiously on the door and shouted, “Is Carmel in there?! CARMEL GET OUT HERE!!” Muireann, the middle child, the closest thing to a peacemaker in the family, cracked open the door and explained that Carmel was being drawn at the moment but she would be done soon. Trasa’s eyes flashed at me, absolutely livid, and she announced, “I DON’T care. GET out here!” I looked at her and said calmly, “I only need 5… 10 more minutes.” In raging disbelief, Trasa slammed the door and shouted her way into the kitchen, calling her father a 2-year-old for just sitting and watching, while he shook his head and attempted to ignore her tantrum. I tried to finish Carmel’s portrait quickly, but she had already started to panic about confronting her sister (more like presenting herself for the slaughter) and her face was contorted as she began to cry. Her two other sisters tried to console her, reminding her that, “…this is the worst part, but then it’ll all be over and Trasa won’t be talking to you and you’ll just avoid each other until she goes back to uni…”
The door opened for Trasa a second time and she gave me her best impatient look as she asked if Carmel was done yet. I held back the urge to roll my eyes at her as I said yes, and Trasa stomped back into the kitchen, screaming for Carmel, who was shaking, to follow. I only caught bits and pieces of the shouting but I did not envy Carmel being on the receiving end of Trasa’s accusations. She literally sounded as though she intended to murder Carmel. Her voice can get terrifyingly high, quaking and ringing in your ears, or it can boom in something closer to a roar, almost inhuman. All the while she is using the most hurtful language she can muster at lightning speed which, at times, renders her parents helpless.
That night ended with almost everyone but Trasa in tears, and Trasa on the computer until 2-3 am. She is leaving today to head back to uni, which is a relief to all the family, not to mention Natalie and I. I have been avoiding Trasa for the past few days, not because I’m afraid of her, but because I’m afraid of how hurtful I know I can be. I have a very strong urge (in all areas of my life, I’m finding) to be the source of damage control… and boy, I know of a few ways to control this bit of damage. I’m sure I could render her speechless, but I refuse to acknowledge my sharp tongue as a positive thing when all I want to do is hurt and diminish someone… even Queen Trasa. Self control, Karis. It’s not my battle to fight.

Oh darn, the sun’s gone again and the room is immediately chilly, despite the desperate attempts of our mini radiator. It’s time for another cup of decaf to keep me warm, but the four Italian girls that are also staying here (for 3 weeks, learning about N. Ireland…technically not allowed to be speaking Italian, supposed to be practicing English.. but I called their taxi for them the other night, anyway) are making lunch and I don’t want to get in their way just yet, no matter how nice/giggly they are. Though, one does wonder… my host family has been taking in students for almost two decades from all around the world… they’ve had Italian students before… why did they only stock up on pasta, pizza and lasagne? Is that all Italian people really eat?  It’s not ignorance, it’s just a safe, Irish assumption.
…and it’s raining again. I’ll give you a rundown of a typical day. I’m up before my alarm everyday, which usually means just after 8, and if it’s a nice day I’ll go for a jog. I tend to wake up naturally on this island (I KNOW, strange), but it also helps that my room is next to the kitchen where the radio is always on a BBC talk station, full blast, even when no one is home. The family shouts their way out of the house (to go to mass before school starts) by 8:15, and I tend to wander around the kitchen eating their sliced fruit leftovers before finally deciding on what to eat for breakfast. I then mosey about/read/shower/check email/bounce on the trampoline (!!!!!!!!!)/go to the library for a while before class starts (MWF 10:15, TTh 2:15)….and then doodle my way through 3 straight hours of the same class. Each day is a different class (M- History of NI, T- Mediation Practicum, W-Peacemaking via Reconciliation/Current Events, Th- Politics of NI, F- International Conflict Resolution), but it’s eating away at me that it’s only ever the 6 of us and the same classroom.
Still raining, sunny now. Depending on the day and how late the library is open I’ll go get some work/reading/facebooking/aiming done for a few hours, maybe take a walk into town/go grocery shopping. I’ve been on a baking kick, especially since discovering rice flour and some wheat and gluten free dessert recipes online for my celiac family members.. and it doesn’t hurt that they’ve got a fresh supply of baking apples everyday from their backyard. After more reading, trips to the kitchen for lunch, dinner or coffee, and occasionally watching an episode of this or that on their computer (they’ve never owned a TV), I’m usually in bed between 11:30 and 1 with my fuzzy purple hot water bottle. Add one smiley American roommate to pretty much every activity above, and that’s Karis’ NI EXPERIENCE 2007 XXL thusfar!

This schedule works well for me because I have plenty of time to sort out my thoughts (as long as my family isn’t shouting, which is rare) and I get bored enough with my reading at times that I am motivated to draw, paint, etc., something I’ve never been good at sitting down and doing when I’m not assigned a subject. I’m going over possibilities for my senior show and my ability to make everything difficult for myself, this time by a ridiculous theory in my artist’s statement. UGH. I’m wondering how I’m going to get to Berlin in December, how I’m possibly going to graduate in the spring (internet language course?), how I can find an excuse to live in Norway/New Zealand/Spain for a little while, why the orange and white cat smells so badly, what sorts of border-crossing organizations I could get involved in here – permanently, how I can get my hands on a copy of Pride and Prejudice the movie, how a person can look at another person with the same difficulties in life as himself and still hurt and humiliate the other for being different, what we base our systems of belief on, if what we’ve been raised with ever truly leaves us, and why John Fogerty drove Creedence Clearwater Revival into the ground. Selfish man. Eh, his perma-mullet and less than mediocre solo career almost makes me feel as though he’s paid his dues.
Speaking of music, my second-to-youngest host sister is a musical fan and just discovered the Phantom of the Opera and I thank God that she’s got the movie soundtrack and not the stage version with Sarah Brightman. Talk about gag. I spend a lot of iPod time wallowing in mellow, borderline tearjerking music – why? I’m not sure, I guess I’m just asking to be homesick… or mourning the loss of summer. Now it’s bright and sunny… but raining.
I’ve been studying the scar on my palm, the one I got the day I landed in Dublin Airport from my broken suitcase (thanks again, Security). Some days it still looks as though it only just healed over the day before, and sometimes it still hurts. Sometimes it feels as though the summer went by fast enough that it really could have happened just the other day – and then I’m reminded of the small moments that prove I’ve lived yet another whole summer from beginning to end: this damned scar and how it came about; seeing friends again; discussing work-related stress with a drunk Eoin outside the disco at 2am on any given Saturday; walking home from the Bistro and offering nabbed marshmallows to anyone in the street; the chocolate cake fight in Taaffe’s that came of Natalia’s birthday cake; learning Polish/Czech/Lithuanian phrases (already forgotten); my “relationship” with Polish Michael, babysitting the potters’ kids and picking berries for hours and NOT RUNNING ALONG THE ROAD I MEAN IT LOCHLAINN!; Lochlainn learning to spell, being given the beautiful glass heart necklace from Caitlin; listening to Sara call her parents late at night, learning about lobster fishing one accidentally tipsy Sunday afternoon; my real relationship with the food at the Bistro, the Sticky Toffee Pudding in particular; the Donkey Derby and Abba Night; the American boys visiting and cooking stew for them at the last minute; spending time with Chase; our mini break to Scotland and trying all those different types of fudge (and haggis, barf); rediscovering the obsoleteness of a fake tan on my skin; pretending every night at the Bistro was a performance; every little Monty Python gem exchanged by Ciaran and Martin; packing and unpacking kilns; Jenn’s friendship and genuineness; learning to windsurf; searching for that tunnel along the shore, being led by Chuckles; seeing two movies in one day and being really disappointed in the quality of the nachos; the death of Fluf; encouraging Andy that there is no right or wrong way to doodle; every morning that I woke up at 5:30 with the sunshine over the loch and the Irish Sea; being fed pizza and chips on the floor; Saturdays in the pottery by myself; listening to Lochlainn giggle himself silly as he would remind me of the story I told him at the beginning of the summer about how my nose was broken (though he would replace my woozily sung Tenacious D lines, “take off your blouse and your UNDAPAAANTS..” with, “take off yer t-shirt, and taaake off yer kacks!”); being handed a lily for my beauty one night in the pub and recognizing straight away that it was plucked from a vase in the men’s toilets; listening to too many dirty old men and at the same time not listening to enough. Everytime I explored a little further, listened a little more, stayed a little longer, pushed myself a little harder, or realized when to stop… I’m thankful for. I’m thankful for a neverending list of good and bad, which only makes me more thankful I could never replace or recreate my experiences here and, as I heard a surprising amount of times this summer, “There but for the Grace of God go I.”

I am missing experiences from home, but it is not a sad missing, as I explained to Melissa the other day – I don’t get panicky, it’s just a deep and constant flow that occasionally ebbs against my ribs and then leaks back into my heart – it’s almost comforting at times.
I miss faces, voices, phrases and –isms of friends and family, hugs from old friends. I miss seeing my grandparents while they’re still living up North, listening to my dad watch football on Sundays, telling the dogs to ‘Shut up, it’s just (insert your name)!’, moseying about Tree House at Goshen, locking a door and being alone, the apple orchard in Goshen, driving out to Bristol to teach art lessons, cackling at Celesta and Melissa dancing spontaneously, watching girly movies in a love clump, shopping at Wal-Mart in the middle of the night, hearing, “Munleydude!”, catching Alia singing yet another song consisting only of her own name, listening to Maryn talk about anything and interrupting herself constantly with “Oh! And…” (Matt, you too), walking into a room to find John with Bea on her back , inventing yet another nickname for her, shredding papers for the financial aid office, hugging my parents, seeing Chase’s hair bounce across campus, being tackled by Mollie, just being around so many people (Amber and Bon Bon specifically), and, of course, Ian Keim and his infinite 8-yr-old knowledge of dinosaurs.
I hate to dwell on how far apart we are, but I find… if I do it just right, I’m even closer to you. And I’ll close with something I’ve been reminded by on one of the many inspirational/educational posters and sayings sticky-tacked all over this big old house: “When it’s dark, you can see the stars!” – Charles A. Beard

:-) Karis

Hmm.. if anyone has any ideas about posting images for everyone to see, you just let me know. i've got a bit of extra time today because my family is out and about and the computer is free again, so i'm uploading a bunch of pictures. yes, i know, facebook, but can everyone view them there? hrm.

Okay, now that i've got a minute to think, what have i not had time to tell you about for the past few months? don't worry, i'm catching up on my letters and postcards in the next few days so once i can find a post office.. those of you that requested a letter at the beginning of the summer can finally expect to see my handwriting grace your mailbox!

leaving carlingford was very difficult this time around. even though ciaran and jenn insisted that i am returning next summer, it was hard to ignore the possibility of the pottery not making it through the winter if they happen to find more lucrative jobs. i already miss ciaran and martin's (and sometimes my!) monty python banters, all instructions being announced in a german accent, lochlainn repeatedly asking how to spell his own name ("and then what?" "O" "oh.. what does that look like again?" "it's the one that looks like-" "oooohyeah.. and then what?"), and i almost, ALMOST miss martin blaming me for eating all of the biscuits. cookie monster.

derry is nice, too. it is a very different feeling that the north has. the light is a different color and the rain hits your face differently.. it's almost unsettling for me at times because i'm aware of how.. invalid (?) the comfort zone i have created in carlingford is up here. what i have learned and become used to from those around me in the south cannot protect me from other ideas up here (not that it ever was my place to form an opinion). i don't like the accents as much, but i can see them growing on me in time. the history is incredible - for most of ireland and northern ireland, the troubles seem to be a wound that is still fresh but is healing slowly... but derry seems to need a bit more time. vicious vandalism still coats the city walls, almost every local church, town hall, former paramilitary meeting place and school is scarred from a car bomb long ago. we visited parliament the other day and met the mayor of derry, but the highlight was stopping to view the city from the top of the city wall during our walking tour. the catholic and protestant areas of the city were pointed out to us and we heard a brief history of (relatively) recent riots... it's astounding. the city doesn't look that big, but the amount of violence that the few estates you can see are steeped in is hard to believe. i'm inspired by the amount of art that encourages peace around the city and am energized by the fact that most of the pieces have been a collaboration of a local artist and a few classes of schoolchildren, and that they have only been erected in the past 10 years or so.

anyway, our classes start tomorrow and i'm excited to have something to do. as interesting as derry is, there's not a whole lot to do besides shop and go out to eat/drink, which, after one day of doing ... i'm kind of tired out. i'd much rather have a job or a task to do and be able to work towards it. our library is only open until 4 ish and you can only borrow a library book for 4 hours max, but the students don't return to campus until the end of september so we'll have a head start on all of our papers. and, if i get my papers done earlier in the semester, i'll be able to use my paper writing week for my own time (fall break, mom and morgan?? let me check the dates.. the week of october 29th! fyi!). i do wish that i could take classes with at least a few irish students. looking at the program and what the profs have lined up for us, it does seem like we're constantly being eased into things.. almost as though they're worried that the culture shock the other girls are experiencing could have the same effects as shell shock at any second. i would much prefer to be tossed headfirst into a program and be forced to adjust... but that is increasingly turning out to be just me. i can't quite associate with the other girls' need to stand out, to be american and to be separate from this culture at all times. i just want to bathe in it!

ookay, this has been a healthy entry, but my mind is jumbled and it really isn't fair of me to monopolize the computer like this. monopolizer. :-)

it's really strange to think of everyone starting back on campus without me.. and i am SO JEALOUS that celesta is taking printmaking. UGH!! you had better teach me when i get back. big sigh.

please keep sending me emails, i love to hear from you (keeps my heart afloat some days). enjoy your classes, jobs, retirement, etc.. try not to miss me too much.. and stay safe please God - besides ireland, you are my life.

i love you and miss you, as always.

karis

just a quick note to say that i am in derry now, safe and sound, staying with a wonderful family that actually reminds me a lot of my own (i miss you terribly!). i'll try to get the mailing address to you if you're interested, but i might just have to send it in an email cause i'm not too keen to just post it up for anyone here. mom, you and my host mom would get along famously, i think.. and i think you could learn a thing or two from each other (she could teach you how to get to africa after all.. and how to make sure to meditate in the morning.. and be completely okay with clutter!). i love you and miss you, thank you so much for all the wonderful cards and letters i've received over the summer. now that i've got a minute to sit and relax i will reply to every last one of them (or send the letters i began and never finished)! this weekend our only job is to explore derry, as the library is closed and there's no students about... whee! i'll try not to shop too hard, dad :-) love you love you love you!

karis