Galway, Ireland & Northern Ireland

I made the small mistake of writing about Ireland while I was in Dublin, before finishing my experience of it! I don't plan to do that again. It's a terrible mistake for anyone to make generalizations based on an experience. I intend only to share my experiences from a firsthand opinion, not for my opinion or experience to be generalized and made into your opinion. Generalizations get in the way, they make us cynical.

So far, even at times when I become cynical and forget my purpose, God or the universe or whatever you call her, sends me something or someone to have the exact impact on my life so that I am put back on track. Sometimes it means I lose things, and sometimes it means I gain people - either way I try to remember to be grateful that I don't have to worry about being brought to a better state of thinking, because the world does it for me.

Galway and the Cliff's of Moher were rather different from Dublin and served as a thinking moment - of fears, of what bravery really means. People had told me I was brave for going on this "trip" (not a vacation, not a study or work abroad - a trip, a bump in the road of life to make sure my shocks are working properly.)
People told me I was brave and people also told me I was stupid. I don't really know what either means to me. I do know that I will always hope for those who think its stupid, I will never forget the feeling of being thought of as brave, and I will remember everyone who expressed either sentiment to me. We never forget the people who trip us, just like we never forget the people who help us stand back up.

So far, the Irish and the people I have met along the way, have all helped me stand up. The people in the west of Ireland were just as friendly and just as open as the ones I had met in Dublin. Theres something about simple kind gestures that reminds me of humanity. Of beauty.

Galway is the western seaport of Irish folk music, where nearby mountains, cliffs, and farmland are right out your window - it was a change of pace from Dublin. The simplicity of the Irish can be summed up in the names of the Galway streets; Market St, Shoppe St, Dock St, Center Square - you can probably guess where to find what, since the names are quite literal. There are no pub crawl streets that I know of... the pubs simply are. 

Galway and the Cliffs caused me to think a lot about how I travel, and what I enjoy. You really have to know yourself and work out all of your personal kinks in order to get going and find comfort in a consistently changing environment. I decided that, what I had always intended was to stay in cities and do day trips out to castles, and hikes.

Galway was a tiny coastal city, much like Portsmouth, NH, or Portland Maine. It is actually the third largest in all of Ireland, with a whopping population of 76,000. The make-up of the town was essentially cobblestone streets with street performers, lots of small shops, restaurants and pubs on the two main drags, then you have seen it all after an hour or less walkabout. I was there on a Sunday, which put me between a weeklong music festival and the beginning of the traditional horse races. There is always a festival in Galway. The city of festivals, I'll call it.

Other than the music, my favorite part of Ireland was that it was homey. Sometimes the greenery of it made me feel like I hadn't even left New England. Out on the hills and through the farms, it was like being in the countryside of New Hampshire, with all of the mountains and free range horses and cows. The perfect transition from home to travel.

I intend to keep pushing myself throughout my trip by going to unfamiliar and challenging places/experiences. For that reason, my first week abroad was in a place that both disappointed me because of its homeyness, and comforted me at the same time.

The Cliffs of Moher were my next personal challenge. Entering the welcome center I had two choices; I could go right and climb up well structured steps to a castle that sat on the cliff's edge - or - I could go left and hike the three or four cliffs where it appeared to be rather challenging. To the left it was far less structured, no stone steps, hardly any fence at all - that's what I chose. I love a good personal challenge. I believe challenge causes growth. I told myself, I am not doing some touristy bullshit just to take a picture. I am hiking. (Step 1 of working out my kinks - know what I like and honor myself by sticking to it.)

The Cliffs of Moher were probably one of the coolest parts of my Ireland adventure. Prior to entering the footpath lining the Cliff's edge was a memorial. A warning really. It went something like:

 "In memory of all the people who have lost their lives at the Cliffs of Moher."

It may as well have said:

 "Warning, people have died doing the stupid shit you are about to do - xoxo the Irish."

More signs said to stay inside the fences for safety. It was a hardy kicker when I realized the design of the fence from the cliffs to the path went like this from out to inland; 750ft drop, cliff's edge, FOOTPATH (and me on the footpath), fence. So if you imagine that, the fence was outside the footpath with no real protection from gravity taking you when you chose to peak over the ledge. Not to mention erosion. It was an Irish caution sign for dummies.

I am terrified of heights. Every time I stopped I had to sit down, otherwise my mind realized my location and sent transmittal signals to the rest of my body that said PANIC! Warning! Don't move or you die! Most of the hike I had to keep my head down in order to not feel a shutter in my heart, and the rest of the time my butt had to be on the ground to know I was safe where I was. I would stop, take a seat, take a picture, followed by a few deep breaths and mantras, then up and onward. Why would I come here? To see the visitor's center? No. I am here to see the Cliffs. No, no. I am here to experience the Cliffs. A friend I had met walked by and said in his Carribean  accent, "what ahh you afraid of? If you fall off dah Cliff, you float and you fly!" His name was Carter, and he had the biggest island smile you could think of. It was the sort of smile people make when they are born and raised in paradise. He had a great thrill about life. I asked him to talk me into continuing. The universe sent me support when I needed it in the form of a carefree Granadian. So we hiked together, me and Carter. I looked at my feet and listened to his stories that he told in his happy free-spirited way.

It was quite windy on top of the Cliffs. I watched seagulls playing in the wind. They would fly up to our eyelevel and then just float, soaring up and down with the wind under their wings like puppet seagulls being tugged up and down by a master. We threw rocks out to the ocean and they floated up above our heads and then whisked back at us. This was no joke. Before I knew it we had made it the entire hike, and it was time to turn back. Inspiration comes unexpectedly, like an uninvited guest you have the choice to be cynical about their presence, or welcome and love them. Carter was so positive and full of life, along the way it reminded me to keep a looseness about me. It's not about taking myself too seriously, it's about taking my life too seriously. The concept of death - it means nothing. I will live forever in my memories - now I just have to make ones that bring me warmth and solitude when I remember them. (A challenging concept to live by, I think.) Now that I wrote that, I can see how Carter really helped me.

We are fearless, young, and beautiful!

After the bus returned me from the Cliffs to Galway, I met a girl named Stephanie from LA. It was nice talking to someone from America, because I didn't have to speak slower than normal, or accidentally mimic an accent and then feel embarrassed by it. I wonder how many people have noticed my ever-changing accent, and thought that I was mocking them. People who are foreigners to me have said that Americans speak too quickly, and are hard to understand. So I always speak slower, and when I do that, people are more confused about where I am from and can no longer guess that I am American - however it also makes me more likely to pick up little odd linguistic dipthongs and slangs that give me an authentic sound. I never tried to do it, but when I spoke "American" for the first time in a week I felt relieved that I wasn't working so hard at speaking slowly and sufficiently with the cultural lingo.

The Northerners call Ireland "Southern Ireland." After traveling from Galway, back to Dublin and then to Belfast - I learned quickly that Northern Ireland is a far different country. The accents are more challenging to understand, rushed and mumbled - as if they are speaking Gaelic and don't even know it. They are also extremely British. I came from my walking tour in Dublin where I was taught the evil of the British as an empire - and now entered the streets of Belfast where British flags are painted everywhere and different slangs are used. Considering the history it seems to me that all of this British pride is propaganda to convince the people they want to be English. Its worked quite successfully. It appeared to be true based on the Northerners I spoke with. Scotland has an upcoming vote that may or may not separate them as an individual country from the UK. I thought, perhaps, if Scotland did that then Whales would be next, then eventually there would be one Ireland again. When I asked locals' opinions about my notion, they told me it will never happen. Too many people have died in making Ireland the way it is now. Northerners are proud to be British. For some reason that disappointed me. Why not be proud to be Irish?

My experience in the North was not as warm with locals as it had been in Ireland, there was a greater disconnect between people it seemed. The Guinness was still equally fantastic.

I stayed with a lovely Polish girl who had been living in N. Ireland for 3 years - she was warm amd generous to me. When I asked her about history, politics, and culture, she explained to me how easy it is for aliens and immigrants to come and get full welfare support from the government, and never contribute anything in return. In the states you have to be a citizen or resident to receive money from the government. My host, being a hard worker, spoke of racism against immigrants. Recently, a N. Ireland government representative had stated publicly that the reason no one was finding work was because the Polish immigrants were coming in and taking the jobs (that may be true due to better education, work ethic, and lower pay expectations, but why stir up racism?) My wonderful tiny host told me that since those remarks were made there had been riots and violence against Polish immigrants and it had been unsafe only a month before I arrived. Don't even get me started on the violence and hatred surrounding Protestant versus Catholic in the region - its real and ever-present. It seems that the few flaws of resilient people is foolhardiness and a hot temperament. I suppose that N. Ireland is a product of what happens when you crossbreed resilient people with the ones who made them resilient.

In Belfast I found a way to escape the propaganda and non-Irish Irish traditions. I took a bus into the suburbs and went for a hike at the Cavehill cliffs behind the Belfast Castle. The Cliffs here were a similar experience to the Cliffs of Moher, so I wont go into too much detail except for that I did it alone on a footpath, smelling flowers and frequently feeling the presence of my loved ones over my shoulder. They told me I was loved, and never to quit. Never quit when you know in your heart that it would be a forfeit, not a defeat. I climbed, I saw, I did it with love.

After Ireland I was meant to be in Scotland. Unfortunately plans were cancelled. So we just go with it :-) This morning I met a Morman missionary couple on a walkabout of S. Kensington Gardens during my first morning in London. Just as God had sent me Carter to make me brave, and Stephanie to make me heedful, so too the missionaries were sent to me to remind me of what I believe in. Empathy. I have never thought of anyone as evil. I have always seen those who behave in anger or hatred as victims of trauma, circumstance, their own minds, etc. Victims in a sense that, he/she may be a predator now, but something made them this way, and something can unmake them this way. I think the undoing is through love, and empathy. That's why I'm in social work. After hearing me give my shpeal about how all you need is love, the missionary asked, "what will your life be like in 5 years?" I can't answer that. "Okay two years?" Nope. "Tomorrow?" I don't know... I think right now I am trying to focus on where my feet are, then I can walk as if my feet are kissing the ground - Someone famous said that, not me. The missionary seemed to regard me as lost rather than found or finding. I don't believe I am either, I believe that I am like an Irish pub - I simply am.

Imagine though, that you could be so aware of yourself that you can recognize every breath, every step, every hand motion. And let every breath breathe love into the life around you, and let every step kiss the ground in gratitude, and let every motion create openness and trust - that your eyes are not only the window to your soul, but the souls of others as well through empathy.  I think that what Christians are really saying when they pray, let everything that breathes praise the Lord. I think I'd like to start with my breath and not to praise through praise but to praise through love.

I think I'm learning that travel can bring growth both in solitude and otherwise. I say this because, in between my solace, every single interaction has notably been specifically for me - designed to remind me of something I already knew, or learn something that will make me better. To challenge is to always grow. The challenge is to focus on where my feet are without being afraid to move, without needing to look where I stand. I tell myself, let go of your hold on life, read the signs and let the universe show you the way. The signs and messages are there, its no coincidence. Its meant for you, me, or them - we just have to accept it as ours and use it to grow. The universe is a tool.

Cheers

Dublin, Ireland

From the moment I sat on the Aer Lingus flight from Boston to Dublin, my natural draw to people was on fire, and attracted kind people to me. On the plane I sat next to a woman, who I would classify as your typical suburban British woman. Ever see a Ricky Gervais show or movie? Well, she was the leading lady; witty, empathetic, comedic (the British sort) and of true grit. We talked about British shows we both liked, and how British humor is better than American humor because of its wit, and truth. I could tell right away that she was a warm person. She gave me advice for my UK travels, laughed with me about poppy cock, and was downright offended by the general idea that Americans have a food called "London broil." With every "t" pronounced, and a rising inflection, she said with her true Brit accent; "Its beef and gravy? And you named it after our capital city? Thas pure rubbish." We laughed a bit, and before parting she asked me if I had anyone in the UK to call in an emergency. I told her I had the U.S. Embassy. So she gave me her mobile number, and told me that it was in case I got arrested. I wondered for a second if, in the mostly silent 6 hour plane ride, that she deduced from my character that I may be a person who gets arrested. I assured her I wasn't that sort, and told her if I pass through Liverpool or Bermingham I would buzz her, and in return the next time she is in Boston on business I will treat her to a London broil and laugh at her mortified response to it - the rubbish.

Upon landing, I waited at the airport for a few hours until the bus system turned on at 6am. Waiting an hour or so to spend 6Euro on a bus instead of 30 on a taxi is just the beginning for me. We have to be choosey now.

My adventures begin in a city thriving in history and oppression. Parts of Dublin are like being back in Sol Madrid. Shops everywhere in the tourist areas so that it is almost like an outdoor mall. The cobblestone streets along the Temple Bar section is where all of the piss, and Guinness line the sidewalks during the day, and where live folk and rock music can be found at night. I wasn't able to check into the hostel to sleep until 3pm. So I locked up my bags, and from 6:30am until 3pm, I walked the city. It only took 3 or 4 hours to really see the whole of it. The section where I am staying is more rubbish than the tourist sections - not dangerous, but clearly somewhat trashier than the better kept parts of town - I didn't take to Dublin right away because of it. There are cigarette butts everywhere and it smells like the dry sweat of an Irish army. 

I never hesitated to tell anyone that I was from Boston. My plan for a lot of this trip was to say I am Canadian - I know I will need to in Central Europe because I have been discriminated against before for being American. I learned quickly that saying you're from Boston in Ireland gets you respect, because some people might even assume that you are Irish. They know that Boston is heavily Irish in history and they love it. Maybe thats why Boston is so resilient - Irish are certainly resilient. I learned a long time ago that foreigners know Boston better than New Hampshire, so i just don't bother with that unless they want to know more or we become friends.

After walking about I came and sat in the lobby of my hostel waiting for a walking tour to start. While I waited I met a kind Iranian family. I was drawn to them speaking Farsi on the couch next to mine. One was a young woman studying Middle Eastern conflicts for her PhD in Belfast, and the others were her aunt and uncle visiting from Norway. After much discussion on passions concerning the Middle East, good health, and the fascination of cultures - I was offered a place to stay in Belfast, and also in Oslo. I don't know that I will, but I was complimented by the generosity and smiles of this family. We continued to chat and exchanged emails before the tour started some time later.

On the walking tour we skipped around Dublin seeing some parks, memorials, the Irish Castle, and Trinity College where the library holds the book of Kells (the only Gaelic version of the Bible.) The castle looked like any Plaza Mayor you've seen or heard of, minus people, minus restaurants and stores, minus everything but blank walls and an empty square. Its deserted. The Brits built and the Brits left, so thats what you get. I learned that, while in Ireland, I should have a distaste for the Brits. They enslaved the Irish and sent them to the Caribbean, just as Americans enslaved Africans. I knew this already, but the way that our tour-guide, Rory, spoke about it brought light to the fact that when Americans typically think of slavery they think of black Africans. Ever heard of slavery and thought of a bunch of poor famished Irishmen? I suppose racism is engraved in us in that way. Imagine though, you are put on a boat not knowing where you're going and then you and the famished guy next to you end up working cotton fields in between beatings for the rest of your life. Although the separation of Ireland with Northern Ireland was meant to bring peace between the Brits and the Irish, it caused conflict within Irish traditions, tearing apart families to the point of them killing one another over disagreeing about right and wrong. Politics. Religion as well. Rory told us about how most Irish are against Israel in the conflict between Israel and Palestine. Not because of politics, he assured us, but because of murder and immorality - because Irish see themselves and their history in the anguish and suffering of others. In my own opinion Israel is comitting a genocide - after having slimly escaped their own in history it makes it ironically sad to me. I suppose history shows us that every powerful nation at least attempts genocide before peace. Gaza Strip is the most densely populated region in the world. Drop a bomb anywhere and its the end for many, whoever the many may be. Oppression is very powerful - I'm sure it has something to do with Israel's desperation to get rid of Hamas no matter the consequences of their inhumanity towards the civilians. I'm sure it has something to do with why Ireland has such a drinking culture. Everyone's gotta cope. Even now, the Irish feel strongly about their culture and what history has to do with modern Ireland.

For instance, Gaelic is a dying language with less than 15% of Irish speaking it. The correct way to say the Irish language is "Gail-gah" not Gaelic. Gail-gah or Irish. Essentially its because of the British banning of Irish culture during their rule that the language is dying. Irish who can speak Irish are the super Irish Irish. :-) Back then community meetings weren't allowed, which forced Catholic mass to operate underground for fear of punishment. It sounded communist almost, or an effort to genocide. Well, it was an effort to genocide. Funny how the world forgives and forgets the mistakes the most powerful nations have made - Britain, America, Germany, Norway, France, Spain, Russia, China, etc. The Vietnamese and Koreans have forgiven us and are kind people to us... But take the money from Europeans and start hostile takeovers of downtroden Middle Eastern countries during an oppressed time and that sort of shit puts you on most of the worlds' shit list. Places that are safe for Europeans to travel, like Cairo, or Saudi Arabia, are not safe for Americans according to the US 

State Department. Anyone here will tell you, its a lot more dangerous to travel as an American than someone else. Thats why its so important that I am passionate about understanding a people/culture. It sets me apart from the typical traveling American who ignorantly goes on a vacation just to drink and dance and eat away from home - plowing through anyone and everything, not asking questions, having the mentality of "who cares I'll never see them again." Well, you may never see them again, but you just helped solidify their opinion of Americans.

Rory passionately spoke as an Irish purist to us, and (clearly) it ignited my passions. Aside from his degree in history, it was apparent that he chose to lead free walking tours as a job so that he could share his passion and the "real" history of Ireland. The grit of it - the humanity.

Much like New York City, Boston, Paris, Munich, or any other major city you can think of - the real majesty of the country is in suburbia, outside of the city. Also, all of the best major cities have a lake, river, or ocean in/next to it (Paris, Budapest, Athens, Dublin, Boston, Miami, NYC, London, Beijing, Ho Chi Minh - and so on.) So I chose to cut my plans short in Dublin so that I will have one more day and night to experience what I want in the city. Then I willl leave Dublin and spend an overnight in Galway to hike the Cliffs of Moher and walk along the Atlantic Bergen. It will set me back by making my trip to Belfast longer, but I will see more and pay the same.

Rory told us on the tour that in the West are many Irish purists who work hard to preserve the language and culture. Even Irish who study 12 years of Gaelic in primary school are usually not fluent. Not to mention, listing "Irish" as one of your main languages, will not help you get a job anywhere. So the Irish westerners try to keep it up, to keep Gaelic from becoming a dead language. Just like any other culture, Rory said that people in the west tend to respect you more if you at least try to say some things in Gaelic. He taught us some phrases. All I remember is that "Slante" means cheers. I remember it because I heard it a lot at the bars.

I asked Rory if the cliche idea of Irishmen getting together, getting drunk, and singing Irish folk music was far from the truth. He told me to give him some beers and he would show me how true it is. Hah!

Foreshadowing of the night to follow - when I was walking to the pub later in the evening I saw a man in front of me peeing on the sidewalk. I have seen this a lot all over Europe. Except for this man wasn't pointing his peewee at the wall, he was aiming for the street and leaning against the wall. I thought, hey! You're doin it wrong! As he zipped his pants a woman walked past paying no mind and he said to her "oh fuck off!" which drew her attention. I liked her response when she said, "me fuck off? You fuck off!" And she kept on walking. I laughed to myself, lifted my skirt to my knees and took a large step over the stream and kept on going. That was my only negative experience of Irish people, even then I enjoyed it for a laugh.

Along the walking tour I became friendly with a lovely Sicilian woman. We talked about couchsurfing, and how she is going to meet her host after the tour. She invited me to a rock concert later in the evening as a couchsurfing event, to meet other hosts and surfers. I went.

An aside; couchsurfing (CS) is a website and community network of low budget travelers connecting and sharing their culture, language, and couch with others who want to do the same. Its a give and take, not immediately and not in any service, but overtime through community and gratitude. I will stay with you, and maybe we will be friends and maybe we wont, but when you have the time to travel and if you so happen to make it to my home town, I will do the same for you.

So now I'm at a pub for live music with these people who all met through the couchsurfing network. One thing I can say for certain, if you go to any Irish pub in the world, close your eyes and tell yourself you're in Ireland, and then open your eyes - believe it or not, you are in Ireland. Every Irish pub is the same, wooden panels, stools, the smell of beer everywhere, lots of beers on taps, samples of beers, green tapestries, and random framed whatevers all over the place with the occasional drinking slogan. Oh, and live music. In the group I met a few Italians, enjoyed speaking Spanish with a girl from outside of Madrid, there was a Nigerian man, and another man from San Diego. The band was American and played classic rock music - so I paid no mind to anyone else and did my hip-shaking foot stomping thing. Soon enough others were joining. It was a two piece sitdown band, like I had never heard before. One strumming all of the rock solos perfectly, and the other banging his head and singing better than any bar band I had ever witnessed. I felt right at home. The singer announced to the bar that he wanted the bartenders to bring him a Guinness. He got himself into a mess of trouble with that, because he was such a good singer that everyone in the bar was buying him Guinness. He had a stool of 4 pints sitting in front of him when he told everyone to fuck off with the Guinness. Literally, "fuck off with the Guinness already. Give me another and I'll fuckin kick you out. I'm serious" He drank two, gave another away to a handicapped man in a wheelchair, and then announced he was drunk. Fair enough, this was his second gig of the night, and first solo gig of the night. I know because we followed him barhopping from the two-piece band to the solo gig because he was amazing, and our group organizer knew him. After he told everyone he was drunk, the crowd roared with excitement. He then sang an Irish drinking song or two in between the Eagles and Thin Lizzy. An Irish song can be created, basically, by getting really drunk and depressed and singing your blues while clapping along. If you can mumble loudly with a drunken drawl, then you can get by during most drinking song choruses - da da die dah die dah die, la la lie, la la lie. Drinking is not my thing, but Irish pubs certainly are.

There is a music festival tonight in Merrion park next to Trinity college. I was invited again by the sweet Sicilian woman. I was also invited to pub crawl with a group of young people who met two years ago studying abroad in Germany. I might do both, one, or none. I would like to hear more local folk music, its fantastic. 

All in all, if it weren't for kind foreigners, or the Irish being generally friendly, fun, and passionate people, I might not have liked Dublin at all. So I'm ready to move on to where I not only love the people, but the environment. I think that will be Galway, and a suburban hike or two outside of Belfast next week.

Slante!

The Stage of Change

There are several feelings in life that people are constantly reaching to attain. Balance. Enlightenment. Peace. Happiness.

In many ways its a curse to constantly feel the need to reach for something. I've learned to think of it as a blessing, as something that is hard to find in others. For me, I am always diligently trying to attain a higher sense of self, and I believe that is a strength of mine that I often seek in others. I've realized over time that everyone, including myself, are stuck in their habits in thought and deed, and they are challenging habits to break. In that sense, we are all addicts. In a way, I have been an addict since my teenage years, by being stuck in my ideology. Addicts go through what is clinically called the transtheoretical stages of change. First, its the steps we deny taking when we don't realize that we want to change. Then, its trying to change but not being able to keep up with self-employed expectations of that change. Followed, by either settling into a comfortable new state, or reverting back to life before the change. The reverting back is what everyone calls "relapse."

Relapse is the part that makes people cringe. Many fail to realize that relapse is going to happen, and often times it is necessary. Enlightenment or a realization period is the first step to change, and to relapse. That's part of what makes relapse so beautiful. You must come to a place where you think differently about yourself before you can start to change, and relapse is necessary in order to help with the next 'thinking differently' moment you will have before the next change. Imagine you are holding a rope, and the other end is being held by your goals. Each time you cut that rope, and draw away from your goals you are relapsing. Granted that 'relapsing' has poor connotations, it still requires enlightenment. When someone is enlightened again after relapse its like taking those cut ends of rope and tying them together. Once you tye the ropes, you are one knot closer to your goals. A person does not have to relapse to make the rope closer together, but thats the result of combining enlightenment and change. Its many relapses that are necessary before theres no rope at all and the last enlightenment that caused change has brought you to your goal. There is no more room for knots. Sometimes this takes a lifetime to achieve.

My change began in January 2013 when I decided that attaining peace, enlightenment, and behaving with humility, love, trust, and gratitude was the way that I wanted to live my life. Before that, I was unchanged and not growing in the way I had always wanted to - my goals felt unattainable. I say to myself now, that change is necessary for growth, so if nothing is changing then you're not really giving yourself opportunities to grow.
I am over a year and a half later now, and my world is different. The universe has clearly laid a path for me to get to where I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Throughout that time little bumps lay in the road that caused me to grow, only after first relapsing. Doubt, is an easy road to relapse. I worried, and doubted, and didnt trust myself at times. I struggled with relationships. To help me grow the universe brought me to new friends at the perfect time, I had questions - I got answers, I changed the way I thought, even the way I breathed, and all along the way little moments kept presenting themselves to me, a byproduct of which was thinking deeper and growing more. I was ambivalent long enough to get to my state. I "relapsed" enough times by not living with love and forgetting about those goals. Finally, I am ready to be content and grounded in my beliefs about the world, who I am, and how to love. I am fearless.

I believe that I have been set up on this path to prepare me for what is next - a trip around the world. I don't know how far I will get, and I don't know how the travels will unfold. I am as prepared as I possibly could be with all of the documents and products I need - but also with all of the growth and change in thinking that was necessary to get me ready for the array of emotional interactions I will have. I am so ready to look around and see beauty. I have seen beauty inside of sorrow and struggle, and I have seen beauty by way of majesty and nature. I love the way that I think about people and the world. I love the amount of insight and observation I have in my ability to "take it all in" as my mom would say.

So here I go. I don't know if I will be gone 2 months, 7 months, or a full year, or beyond. I do know that I am ready to further experience humanity, and I know that humanity is ready to experience me.
So as I embark on my next adventure, I would like to ask you a favor. I'm probably outside of my rights, because no one owes me anything, however, I ask this; once in a while, muster all the love you have and say a positive wish for me out loud. Maybe send me an email to read and soothe the occasional loneliness. Mostly, think well of me - for me. 

This trip will be a challenge, but it will moreso be a joy. Its my next and biggest opportunity to "think differently" again, and continue to grow and be challenged by my world and the universe.
 Here are some things I continue to tell myself to keep me balanced. These things will be on repeat while I am traveling and constantly pushing myself. Here goes:

Try not to say "don't" when it comes to what you want - its important to say what you want with love not negativity. Stay in the light. Write. Stretch. Dance to street music. Hear peoples' stories. Be humble. Find a way to have gratitude for every moment, every one, and every thing - even if at first you feel negative about it. No matter what you will always be different and it will always be a challenge to understand how others are different - remember to be open to those differences. Be open to learning. Think of your friends and family often, but avoid dwelling. Never sit around waiting for nothing, also never become restless. Stare at the view, not photos. Sleep where you're comfortable. Trust your heart, and recognize that negative feelings come from your lacking in gratitude, humility, and love, or that your negativity can be a product of the environment and transference from surroundings. Make sure everyone you are leaving behind feels loved by you. For all intensive purposes - we have only one life and when you're dead, thats it. All you have is what you know, what you remember, and how you think. Take extremely good care of your body. Never talk like you're gonna die, be hurt, or experience a struggle. Even struggle is beautiful if it does happen, because its not a struggle if you love it anyway. When you have a negative thought, give it a hug and send it on its way. Laugh out loud with your whole heart. Let others know what you appreciate about them. Never tease, only compliment. Remember to keep it positive. Positivity is not a real word, but we're going to make it one. Love the world and remember that, it - and we - are beautiful.

Boston Marathon 2013

Most of my friends and family are from Boston. Having gone to college just a 15 minute walk from where the bombs exploded during the Boston Marathon on April 15th, I'm in shock of how all of us connected to Boston have been affected, and how our nation has been affected.

I would like to just reflect on the experience I've had in connection to the events of this week. Please read on to hear my frustration, my passion, and my love.

Some of the reactions I've heard to the 3 dead and 178 wounded from the Boston bombings have been, "oh only 3 dead?" or "why is everyone so upset, 32 people died in Afghanistan today." The media that we have created is a society of numbers - no names, no sympathy, empathy, compassion. Yet, a person hears a bomb explode, watches a person cry, feels the blood on the ground, and their life is changed forever from that moment. The people who have died in Afghanistan have names which should be shared, and there statistics should not be as significant. The 3 victims from Monday; 8 year-old Martin Richard, 29 year-old Krystle Campbell, and a Boston University graduate student named Lingzi Lu of China - they should be remembered for their names and their stories. They're not just the 3 fatalities that the bombings caused - they are people, and millions - millions - of people have felt connected to them because of the tragic way in which their lives were taken from them. That is what is beautiful and should be reported on the news.

Anyone who is connected to the internet can see that MSNBC, CNN, and FoxNews (but no surprise there), have all been spreading inaccurate and downright offensive press to the public. A public, who is overall confused, worried and upset at what has unfolded this week.

I have been asking anyone and everyone to pray and think of all those involved in the attacks, and affected by them.

The reason prayer is so powerful is because its a million positive vibes working together which can ultimately change the mood of a nation. Prayer is just positive thoughts with a specific focus. Boston has always been a resilient city full of people who can easily unite simply on the basis of being from the same area, loving the same sports team, or being the same amount of drunk. Positive vibes help that resilience thrive.

Surrounding all of these events have been crazy, and downright ignorant political remarks regarding Muslims, and radicalism. Radicalism, is a disease that has infected religions and cultures all over the world. It is a dramatized, and evil kind of thinking that can easily take a lost child and turn him into a soldier for "god." This is a disease that has infected Christianity, caused corruption within religious institutions, and has created branches of radical groups everywhere from radical anti-abortionists, the Westboro Baptist Church, all the way to Al-Qaeda. Radicalism is a disease because powerful and self-righteous individuals prey on the weak to join their movement. It is a brainwash, and it is a global issue that has affected millions of people and caused countless casualties since before 2001.   Radicalism in the Middle East has caused such an uproar of fear and anger in people who do not fully understand it that Islamaphobia is on the rise and Muslims are often targeted as being 'evil' people. Muslims, who I might add, also condemn radicalism and look down upon those who have encouraged the radical view of Islam.

It has been the cause of all terrorist attacks in the past several decades, and unfortunately I live in a generation where the face of those radicalism groups has been painted by media and leaders as a group of angry Muslims. Those people can call themselves Muslims the same way that the father of a cult group can call himself the reincarnate savior. I wish that we lived in a time where we could look at radicalists and hear what they say and think "I hope that someone helps them, and I hope that no one believes they are right." If your belief is in harming others, then your God is not from nirvana, paradise, the kingdom, heaven, etc. All religions (not cults) have one thing in common that I can say for sure - do good, be good. 

It is my prayer that all of us who have not been swayed in radicalism, can hope and pray for those who have. A 19 year-old bomber? I pity him through all of the anger and the pain he has caused. I cannot see a 19 year-old murderer as anything other than a victim of his own mind. 

I believe that strength of heart and mind is what will bring peace. It is the weak who can be swayed to radicalism, it is the desperate, and the lonely, the people who have no where else to turn. And then on their shoulder they have a person with kind eyes holding out their hands, telling them they care about them, and all of that desperation and loneliness can be blamed on somebody, on a nation, on a city. If all the love in a persons life is felt from one wolf in sheep's clothing, then someone who is in pain will fail to see beyond the sheep.

If anyone is in a relationship of any kind that has caused them to isolate themselves and segregate from others who have shown care for them, then let me just say this - we are not meant to be alone.

To anyone who feels such an immense amount of anger in their lives - radical groups against; LGBT, a race, a culture, a belief, a religion, etc. To those people who feel that an act of hatred is the only way they can find peace... or even to the non-radicals who resort to violence, substance abuse, or simply mistreat themselves or the people in their lives who love them...
Newsflash. Hatred or anger will NEVER bring you peace.

Thanks for listening.

St. Patrick's in St. Augustine

St. Augustine, as few probably know, was a bishop with various philosophical knowledge. He read a lot, and knew about a lot of different beliefs before he chose to convert to Christianity in the late 300s. St. Augustine's story is rather mundane compared to a saint known as the "Apostle of Ireland," who few people actually know any good facts about. Aside from celebrating his death on March 17th all over the Christian world - St. Patrick's Day is also known to pretty much every American as a secular and juvenile holiday filled with lots of green, and lots of alcohol. I guess that's the best way for an Irishman to celebrate the anniversary of someone's death. Hollah to the college students who feel me on that one.
The best place to celebrate St. Patrick's day for me was always in Boston. South Boston brings an Irish pride to the city. Boston was also a city that originated on the backs of the working class who's ancestors were Irish slaves, just like St. Patrick. Pride. The past 3 years I've spent St. Patties in Boston. It's been memorable, intoxicating, and wonderful.

This year, I took my Boston pride down to Florida for the weekend and celebrated St. Patrick with St. Augustine. I love St. Augustine. Having grown up on the ocean, boating, fishing, rowing, diving, and all of that good stuff - I have so much love for a beautiful place with a beautiful ocean and beaches. Waves always calm me down, and islands are giant playgrounds.

I spent the weekend listening to really good music, dancing, relaxing, sun-burning, and all in the good company of my best friend and favored travel partner, Isabela.
Boston can't top that St. Patties Day, sorry Celts. Between going to live gigs, walking on the beach at night, and riding a war veteran's jetski - I really can't say what I loved doing the most. Mmm the sushi.
As for living in St. Augustine... I don't know if the small town life would ever be for me. Not unless I knew how to make a potato gun, and it was a place where there's more snow in the winter. The marina life though, that is definitely for me. I think this summer is going to be a great one full of cherished friends and oceanic adventures. I know I'm enjoying my last semester of undergrad, but lets speed it up to May now, shall we?

Leaving St. Augustine definitely gave me something to look forward to and something to miss.

Thanks, family, for a great spring break.

Preventive Services

My senior year internship has been at a field placement in preventive services. Everyone knows that the Association of Child Services (ACS) is this group of evil social workers who come in to happy homes and take children from their loving family situation. Well, now I can tell you what actually happens. What actually happens is a report is made if a child misses too much school, if there's a domestic violence incident - essentially if a child is reported as being unsafe in any way - then ACS does a 30 day investigation to determine whether there is a safety concern. After that investigation ACS either takes the child out of the home and puts the child temporarily into foster care until the home/family situation can be deemed safe (courts always get involved), or something else happens - that's not my job so I don't know too much about it. I do know that usually those temporary foster homes are kin or next of kin. There's a lot of knitty gritty detail there.

Let me tell you about my job instead. Preventive service comes in when ACS refers cases to the agency. Cases like that are usually to prevent the family from being separated, or to bring a family back together after having been separated. Essentially, the preventive services department at my agency is a referral based agency. Get a case, make assessments, send kids to tutoring, mentoring, after school programs, counseling, drug tests, etc. Send parents to parenting classes, support groups, therapy, anger management, rehab, and all that other stuff too. A lot of parents have children in foster care. A lot of those parents were in foster care as children. Studies have shown that parents who were in foster care are more likely to have children who end up in foster care. Sad but true. So I make referrals, counsel my clients, make visits at schools and at homes, meet with teachers, other case workers, collaborate with a million other agencies and services - then write it all down so that everything is documented.

Working in child welfare is certainly a difficult task. Most of the clients are referred, or mandated - very few cases are parents seeking advocacy.  Some clients are willing to do what they need to do in order to close their case and create a positive environment for their family. Some clients will do everything they can do to give their case planner a hard time and get them out of their face - sometimes in the most difficult and complex way possible.

There are two things working in child welfare has taught me. 1) This job is hard work. Every day is an emotional roller coaster because everything you do is reliant on the cooperation of everyone else. Clients and collaborators can almost never be trusted to complete what is asked of them, and even if they are trusted, case planners still have to be on their butt to make sure things are getting done so that the case can close. We are supposed to have a 12 month turnover rate. The day is full of chasing people around, calling different numbers, and going to different locations because no one will return your email, fax, phone call, or mail. The people who do cooperate make you kind of want to hug them, or send them a thank you card. Hours can keep a person working as late as 9pm in and out of dangerous neighborhoods in Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Harlem - I haven't heard of many cases in Manhattan through our agency though. We're mostly Brooklyn based. I work in areas of the city that I probably would have never ventured to otherwise, so I'm grateful to the different version of New York that I may not have experienced otherwise. Most of the neighborhoods look the same. There's a million nail and hair salons, liquor and wine on every corner, lots of shelters and project buildings, playgrounds every few blocks, mostly buses and not as many subways, some kind of 'metro deli' every where you go, and in the more populated areas there's always a burger king, popeyes, or mcdonalds.

2) The second thing that working in child welfare has taught me is that you are never going to be rewarded for doing this hard work, at least not through praise or salary. ACS and preventive services are hard industries that have forgotten empathy, and done everything possible to ignore the fact that this is an emotionally difficult field to work in. There's not very much debriefing going on for workers who have cases everyday with crack addicts, prostitutes, pimps, angry clients, overly attached clients, clients who do nothing for themselves, clients who think you are there to do everything for them, etc. Sometimes you work with people who want to work with you but their children are still getting arrested for assault. Sometimes you work with people who scream at you, belittle, and disrespect you as best they can, kick you out of their apartments before you finish your job. Workers are sometimes put into dangerous situations, or scary situations. For example, the female worker has to monitor the daughter visiting her father at Riker's Island Prison. The father was locked up for rape, assault, or something equally as intimidating. These are just every day situations. If the client is non-compliant we have elevated risk conferences, sometimes have to call police... sometimes clients call police or threaten to sue us for doing our jobs. I think you get the picture. All that for $36,000 a year. Oof. Is it worth it? Well, there are moments when your supervisor says you've done good work and have a good turnover rate. There's times when your client isn't giving you a hard time. Sometimes clients will tell me they love me. Sometimes I get a thank you just for listening. When I go to the children's schools and take them out of class to meet with me, they are always appreciative. After my teenage clients start improving their grades, going to school regularly, and getting excited about their future, or my parent clients start taking their medicine regularly, and attending therapy - yeah. I'd say that those big changes are beautiful and can make it worth the rough hours and low wages. But the working through ambivalence towards change part can be rough.

I'm learning a lot from my agency, and a lot about child welfare and working with alllll kinds of different people. I've become really close with the girl that I intern with, and I'm friends with a few of my coworkers. My goal was to make something good in the environment because otherwise it is high stress, high tension, many deadlines - all the time.

Friday night happy hour is always something to look forward to.

New Internship

A couple of weeks ago I started my Junior Social Work internship through NYU at the International Rescue Committee in Manhattan (IRC). IRC is a non-profit organization that has a resettlement department which essentially does all it can to provide comfort and opportunities for refugees to thrive in the United States. Refugees are people fleeing from persecution and war in their own countries which had become no longer safe for them. Asylees are also assisted at IRC. It was explained to me that the difference between an asylee and a refugee is that a refugee applies to enter the country and tries get into the country, whereas an asylee is a person already in the U.S. who applies for government support as a refugee, usually because his/her country had become too dangerous for them to return.

My role as an intern, other than typical office work, is to make life easier and more comfortable for the clients as well as the staff. I have done the filing type stuff, but the other things I need to do are: set-up a clients home before they are planning to arrive in this country as a refugee, that means going shopping on the small budget that the government gives them, and then going to their apartment (usually in the Bronx) to prepare and have food ready for them too. Once they arrive they have lots of paperwork and appointments to go to, which interns (me) accompany them to. Appointments like social security, bank, medical, you name it. IRC also works with them on their language barriers and employment because many come in with very poor knowledge of English and the better they are at English the more likely they are to get a better quality job and to keep that job.

The entire experience is very interesting, and I don't get bored ever. I always feel bad for people waiting in the waiting room for hours not knowing when they're going to be seen because they may or may not have understood that they were asked to wait. I also just feel bad for them waiting because a lot of the processes involved with being a refugee or an asylee also involve a lot of waiting and exhaustion. Many of them don't want to be here because the only reason they left their country is because it is too dangerous for them to be there: where everything they know, speak, eat, and have a community with are still sitting.
I couldn't imagine moving to another country without an option of when, where, how, or even who with; not to mention the huge language barrier that I would have to work through in order to feel the least bit comfortable while trying to survive and use all of the policies to my benefit rather than allowing them to make things more difficult for me. And believe me, some governmental policies concerning these issues are more likely to make life more difficult than any easier and are often very unfair. A prime example of the unfairness is this; A refugee has three months to find a job in this country (fair) and each refugee is given $900 a month to get on his/her feet (fair). However, refugees are placed all across the country in urban, suburban, and rural settings, but still all begin with $900 a month (not fair). A refugee placed in Manhattan has to survive off the same amount of money as a person living in Podunk-No-Where. Refugees can request to be placed with friends/family who are already in the United States but ultimately have no say in the matter (not fair).

Overall the policies tend to be the things that frustrate me most, and I have barely dipped my foot into the pool I am about to swim in.

My first day my clients were two couples, one with a baby. They had just flown in from across the world the day before, and the next day they had to wake up bright and early to spend at least 6 hours on the metro and waiting in waiting rooms. I was with them for 4 of those 6 hours. My job was to take them to register at social security. Lots of waiting, lots of required patience and slow discussions. The most difficult is the language barrier, especially with people who speak n0 English, and I speak n0ne of their language. Spanish only comes in handy here once in a long while, mostly for Cuban clients. French and Arabic would be a lot more helpful to me right now. I feel like I'm losing my ability to speak and understand Spanish as it is, so I was a little disappointed to find that I wouldn't have many opportunities to practice with clients.

My third day I sat in on a case management meeting concerning employment for clients. I sat quietly, because I am not qualified to say anything, and also because I didn't understand a lot of the acronyms that were being thrown around. Social Work has a lot of acronyms. I need a spreadsheet of codes to learn. The meeting was extremely productive and even funny at times to hear how some clients participate in their employment. Cultural differences can be funny sometimes. I'm sure we have a wide variety of personalities that can be found in our cliental. If I could just sit in on case management meetings all day I would be happy.

The IRC office is moving from Grand Central Station to near Times Square, so I guess that means I will be seeing Time Square a lot more often now since that's where my metro stop is. It's kind of exciting. I feel like seeing Time Square on an almost regular basis is like a confirmation that I officially live in New York City. Having a job here is cool, even if it is an internship that my school hooked me up with. Not lame at all.

I'm sure I will write more in the future, but probably not very frequently. Keep reading!