Recent Reflections (or, a late-night stream of conciousness)

If you are writing a paper for an American professor teaching at a school that prefers the UK punctuation style, do you use 'aesthetic' commas (American) or 'logical' commas (UK)? What about quotation marks (the UK uses what we know as apostrophes for quotation and our quotation for quotes made inside the quote--sorry, that's an awful lot of quotes)? Funny thing is, when I tried to go back to using the American quotation and comma rules after having written two papers in the UK style, I was incredibly confused. Quotes look so much more bulky when there's two little apostrophes around each end! Anyway, I ended up using UK--it's what the rest of the class used, anyway.

Self-esteem problems plague everyone; beauty should never be equated with happiness.

Irish traditional music (trad) is passed down from person to person, and just about everyone knows who learned what from whom. I, for instance, am studying fiddle with Connie O'Connell, who played with and learned from Johnny O'Leary and Dennis Murphy, who learned from Padraig O'Keeffe, last of the fiddle masters of Sliabh Luachra, who learned from Tom Billy Murphy. On the other hand, I am studying bodhran with Frank Torpey, who learned from Mel Mercier, who learned from his father, Peadar Mercier, who played with the Chieftains, which came from Ceoltoiri Chualann, organized by Sean O Riada--the man deemed responsible for the revival in trad music which eventually lead to Riverdance (which, funnily enough, Frank Torpey played in). This is not dissimilar to the lines often traced with classical musicians--at Northwestern, I study with Blair Milton, who studied with Joseph Gingold and Galamian, etc.

Fortune Cookies here are very strange: 'Beware of the man with the gleam in his eye; it might just be the sun shining through the hole in his head.' 'Just because you think you are paranoid doesn't mean that someone isn't following you.'

Frequent comment made about the boys who live upstairs: 'They're just like little boys!' The prank call wall is at a current truce, by which I mean I've learned to remember to unplug the phone at night.

Ah, yes, for those of you who didn't know: I have been diagnosed with a virus similar to mono that will last for some unknown amount of time. This means, of course, rest, water, and becoming a lighter sleeper. The first two are fine, but I really can't stand the third when I consider the thickness of the wall between my room and the living room. Or when I turn over--I think my bed springs are dying, if not already dead.

This weekend happens to be the bank holiday weekend known as the 'Halloween Holiday.' Funnily enough, my stand partner in the Cork School of Music asked me if Americans celebrated halloween--we do, but very differently than they do here (which, actually, I'm still not quite sure how they do that). I did find out, courtesy of an email Grainne sent me, how they used to celebrate it with a tea-time favorite, barmbrack (if you're looking for some easy reading, google that one--it explains the halloween tradition that goes along with it. I'd totally copy and paste it in here, but that's called 'plagarism' and we all know that wikipedia isn't what you'd call accurate).

Anyway, back to the holiday weekend. I'm going up to the Killary Adventure Center for some kayaking and some hill-walking (and maybe just some good, old-fashioned rest--thanks mono-like virus). It's located in the Connemarra Gaeltacht, where Irish is the primary language, up in County Clare. I'm actually really excited to go--Clare is a beautiful area.

Sean-nos singing is very popular up in Connemarra. In fact, there are some highly noted (terrible pun, sorry) singers that have come from that area in the past. My sean-nos class is going well--I've learned three songs, and I'm working on a fourth. One of these days I'll post the text, a translation, and a pronunciation. It'll be cool.

Righty, now--my cuppa is empty and I'm finally feeling tired.

Until next time,

Who Cares if You Listen?

When American Composer Milton Babbitt wrote his ‘The Composer as Specialist’ in 1958, he had no idea that the editor of the journal in which the article was to be published would disregard his intended title and replace it with one far more incendiary: ‘Who Cares if You Listen?’[1] Regardless of the title that is pinned on Babbitt’s work, the ideas set forth in the article are cause enough for a musical and academic riot: Babbitt, using a teleological philosophy of history, makes the argument that music has become so ‘serious’ and ‘advanced,’[2] understandable only by an elite group of scholars (much like a ‘pure science’[3]), that ‘isolation is advantageous to both the composer and music.’[4] What exactly is this ‘serious’ music that Babbitt says should only be played for the elite (if at all), without any regard to the public? More importantly, why does Babbitt push for this isolation?

I must admit, I don’t find Babbitt’s arguments entirely convincing concerning the last question—although there are several observations Babbitt makes that I have run into during my experience of music, I do not agree with his push for isolation. Before I break down Babbitt’s points one by one, I feel that I should make my ‘musical credentials’ known: while not a composer, I have performed music for upwards of thirteen years, studied both ‘traditional’ and set theory, having also performed music a variety of new music. While I do not have the Doctorate in Music Theory that Babbitt seems to think is necessary for critique of this ‘new’ music, I do feel that these qualifications put me far outside Babbitt’s scorn for the ‘layperson’ that critiques negatively simply because they ‘didn’t like it.’[5]

Babbitt opens his argument by painting a picture of the then-current atmosphere that received new music—compositions shunned by audiences and performers alike, resulting in ‘poorly attended concerts’ attended only by ‘fellow’ professionals.[6] Babbitt then makes his first statement that isolation, both ‘societal and musical,’ is ‘not only inevitable’ (the first hinting of a teleological philosophy of history) but ‘advantageous’ to the composer and his music.[7] It is here that Babbitt makes his first misstep—it seems a little childish to justify something as being ‘advantageous’ simply because it is ‘inevitable.’ This particular statement also calls to mind the image of a petulant child who, upon being denied something, responds with an ‘I didn’t want it anyway!’

Following this outburst, Babbitt returns to his ‘logical’ argument, beginning to draw stronger ties between ‘advanced’ music and theoretical physics (with yet another nod to a teleological philosophy of history): the divergence between ‘advanced’ music followers and ‘traditional’ music followers stems from a ‘half-century of revolution in musical thought,’ which compares to a ‘mid-nineteenth century revolution’ in theoretical physics.[8] This is a connection that Babbitt relies very heavily upon for the duration of his argument—the new music, explains Babbitt, has four general characteristics, each of which requires far more of the listener than those of the ‘antiquated’ music: it exists in ‘five-dimensional space’[9] (pitch class, register, dynamic, duration, and timbre), has structural characteristics that are ‘unique to the work,’[10] employs a new, ‘efficient’[11] tonal vocabulary, and references other (perhaps older) types of musics.[12] Babbitt, by using such technical vocabulary, is trying to turn music into a science, something which, in my mind, it is decidedly not. His argument, at this point, can easily be simplified into the following idea: the nature of things is to progress—science has progressed, and thus music must do the same.

Babbitt continues to equate music to physics through his commentary regarding the public’s opinion of the ‘new’ music, comparing a concert of new music to a lecture in theoretical physics—the layperson present in either situation, if they dislike the work presented, dislikes it for insufficient reasons: in the case of the lecture, ‘the hall [was] chilly’ or ‘the lecturer’s voice was unpleasant’; of the concert, the music was ‘inexpressive,’ ‘undramatic,’ or ‘lacking in poetry.’[13] Babbitt considers these objections to be exactly the same in nature, but I do not: the comments from the ‘layperson’ sitting in the lecture have nothing to do with physics, theoretical or otherwise; those from the ‘layperson’ in the concert deal with an ‘antiquated’ expectation of an art that, until very recently, had been at the beck and call of the public. Because Babbitt believes the public completely incapable of understanding, he calls for isolation.

I do not disagree that the music is undoubtedly ‘new,’ or that it makes more demands upon the ear, nor do I disagree that some of the public declines to view certain works ‘as music’ simply because it does not conform to their conception of what it should be—these are all things that I have noticed during my studies of the ‘new’ music. I believe it is a fair statement to say that, in general, one appreciates something like music far more after having gained a more intricate knowledge if it—I know this rings true with me, even with certain pieces of what Babbitt would deem to be ‘traditional’ music. What I do disagree with, what pains me to hear Babbitt say, is that this ‘new’ music should be isolated—by all means, no! We should be (as Babbitt scornfully called them) the ‘well-meaning souls who exhort the public “just to listen to more contemporary music,”’ not promoting ‘passive acceptance’ through familiarity as Babbitt would suggest, but an understanding (maybe promoted through pre-concert lectures or informative program notes).[14] According to Babbitt (and his teleological philosophy of history), if this ‘new’ music is not removed from the public sphere, it ‘will cease to evolve, and, in that important sense, will cease to live.’[15]

Perhaps I have the benefit of living almost sixty years after the work was written, or perhaps it is because I was introduced to this very music at a university (Babbitt’s proposed home for this new ‘complex’ and ‘difficult’[16] music), that I have found this ‘new’ music, as well as music that is far more recent, to be widely accepted and performed regularly in concerts, well attended by the scholarly elite and the layperson, alike. The music has not been isolated, as Babbitt suggested that it should be, but promoted, and it has continued to evolve—a clear difference from the future predicted by Babbitt if the ‘new’ music was not pulled out of the public eye.

Bibliography

Babbit, Milton. ‘Who Cares if You Listen?’. Source Readings In Music History. Eds. Oliver Strunk and Leo Treitler. (New York: W.W. Norton, 1998). 1305-1311.

---

[1] Milton Babbitt, ‘Who Cares if You Listen?,’ Source Readings In Music History, eds. Oliver Strunk and Leo Treitler (New York: W.W. Norton, 1998), 1305.

[2] Babbitt, 1305.

[3] Babbitt, 1308.

[4] Babbitt, 1305.

[5] Babbitt, 1309.

[6] Babbitt, 1305.

[7] Babbitt, 1306.

[8] Babbitt, 1306.

[9] Babbitt, 1306.

[10] Babbitt, 1307.

[11] Babbit, 1306.

[12] Babbitt, 1307.

[13] Babbitt, 1309.

[14] Babbitt, 1310.

[15] Babbitt, 1311.

[16] Babbitt, 1310.

Visitors from the West

[Update]: Photoblog has also been updated--link can be found to the right.

The best gift I got this year for my birthday happened to be the gift of family--as much as I enjoy living here, it's definitely been hard living so far away from everyone else, despite the ease of communication. When I got an email from Grandma inviting me to dinner on my birthday, I was thrilled!

Grandma and Grandpa Dary arrived in Cork this past Monday, after two plane flights and a train ride. Once they were settled in the Gresham Metropole and we'd gotten the chance to talk a bit, I left them for the afternoon to unpack and get some rest before dinner. It was like Christmas, watching them unpack! As soon as I knew that they were going to be coming stopping over in the D.C./Baltimore area, I put together a list of things that I had forgotten or wanted. Most importantly (in my mind) out of all the things to come out of their suitcases were Jiffy Crunchy Peanut Butter (no such thing here), Macaroni and Cheese (I've only ever seen it in a can), and Tizzy (my stuffed rabbit, courtesy of Aunt Cris). Of course, there were other far more important things in there--recording equipment for class, wrist braces, cards from family, and my peacoat (it gets a little chillier here than I thought it would)--but the first three items definitely got my attention. After a little bit of sleep, we met up again in the hotel dining room to enjoy a lovely dinner before I headed back at the request of my Spanish flatmate--according to her, I just had to be home by 9 PM.

Funnily enough (who saw this one coming), I returned to a flat full of people and chocolate, all there to celebrate my birthday. I must admit that while I was suspicious of Barbara's insistence, I certainly didn't expect to see as many people there as I did. To top it all off, she'd even made me a violin cake! Barbara is such a sweetheart.

The next morning was an early start--I had fiddle class (for fifteen minutes) at 10 AM. After dropping my violin off in my flat, I met Grandma and Grandpa for lunch, which we had at Harvey's Cafe in the French Huguenot quarter of the city. After devouring sandwiches, we hopped on the 'Hop On--Hop Off' bus tour of Cork City--it gave Grandma and Grandpa a good idea of the city that I'm living in this year, and made it easy to get some really great pictures of places that would be hard for me to get to. Once again, I was astounded by the driving skills of the bus drivers here--too many windy roads!

After we had finished with the tour, we ended up in Marks and Spencer's for afternoon tea--a delightful affair, complete with tea sandwiches and huge tea cups (about the size of a cereal bowl). Over tea, we dicussed dinner options, and I decided that, rather than go out to a restaurant, I'd rather make dinner for the three of us and my flatmates at the apartment. Besides the fact that they hadn't yet seen the apartment or met my flatmates, cooking dinner for my friends on my birthday is a tradition that I started my freshman year of college and have kept ever since (yes, yes, only three years, I know).

Dinner that night was pasta with chicken, broccoli, garlic, and parmesan in a white wine butter sauce that I concocted on the spot. I had to give a considerable amount of thought to what I was going to make--I don't remember if I've told all of you this or not, but Barbara only eats meat and carbohydrates while Lauren is a vegetarian. It was amusing to watch Barbara trade all of her broccoli for all of Lauren's chicken. During dinner, I received many phone calls--most from friends and family, and one from a 'security guard' (read: guy upstairs) that we later found out was a prank call (this eventually lead to a full-out prank call war involving several apartments that eventually ended when we unplugged our phone. Mature, I know).

The next day was an incredibly busy one--good thing I had a full Irish breakfast with Grandma and Grandpa at the Metropole to get me through the day! After breakfast, I ran to my apartment to pick up my things for class, trekked up the huge hill to the music building, sat through two hours of lecture on twelve tone, ran down to campus to eat lunch and meet with students from my seminar, trekked back up the large hill, played bodhran for thirty minutes, ran back to the apartment to drop off my stuff, and then met Grandma and Grandpa for our last dinner together at the Metropole. Dinner was delicious, but the conversation afterwards was amazing. We said our goodnights, and I went back to my apartment to start on the reading for the next days class.

Luckily for everyone involved, I don't have class on Thursday until 3 PM, meaning that I was able to spend as much time as I could with Grandma and Grandpa before they commenced their long journey back to Oklahoma. After another full Irish breakfast (complete with rice crispies, the only american contribution to my plate), I rode to the train station to with them to wish them a safe trip and say my goodbyes. Saying goodbye is always hard, but it's made even harder when there's no one back at your flat to go home to--Lauren was in Paris; Barbara, in Amsterdam. While the Aero bar that I bought in the train station didn't provide any actual company, it did make me feel a little better.

Homestay Madness and Fiddle Lessons

I felt so at home with my family, I woke them up Sunday morning to the sound of me getting sick! And I didn't even go out the night before... No worries, I'm fine now.

Ger and Jacqui didn't actually live in Carrrigaline, but between the towns of Carrigaline and Ballygarvan on farmland that Ger's father leases out to other farmers (meaning that the Spillanes live in the middle of whatever the other farmers choose to grow; this year: corn). I think I should also add that Ger and Jacqui are also very well off, seeing as Ger used to be a semi-professional footballer. (Translation: their house is huge.) Upon arrival to the Spillane's house, Lauren, Jules, and I were greeted by Lassie. Well, not Lassie per se, but Kipper, the Spillane's one year old collie. We loved Kipper, and boy, did Kipper ever love us.

After settling in to our rooms, Jacqui invited us to wait in the family room while she prepared tea. Half an hour later, she called us into the breakfast nook/dining room, where we sat down to personal-size pizzas, salad, coleslaw, 'chips', and a plate of white bread. Apparently, in the Spillane house, "tea" means "supper." We spent the rest of the evening chatting with Jacqui while Ger was out with the boys at a gaelic football match, finally heading to bed around 11 PM after watching Maid in Manahttan on TG3.

The next morning was unhurried and relaxed. After breakfast (served with even more white bread), Lauren, Jules and I pulled out some work, which we did at the table in the breakfast nook/dining room (once I get batteries for my camera, you'll see how this works). After numerous cups of tea and a plate of biscuts, Ger made lunch--turkey, salad, cole slaw, potato salad, white bread, white bread toast, and a whole wheat cracker with cream cheese on it. Oh, and there was yet another plate of white bread on the side.

Jacqui came back from her hair appointment that afternoon, and took us into Carrigaline to do some shopping and general walking around. While she was running errands, Lauren, Jules, and I walked around until we ran into some other students on their homestay. After some coffee, chocolates, and ice cream, we headed back with Jacqui to make "tea": chips, rashers, sausages, alphabettoes (what you would get if spaghettios and alphabet soup had a love child), and, you guessed it, a plate of white bread. Lauren and Jules went back into Carrigaline to go to the Corner House, Carrigaline's Pub, and I stayed in to chat with friends and family.

The next morning was a disaster--around 7 AM, i got up to go sit in the bathroom because I didn't feel well. Around 7:15, Ger returned from taking Ben (the youngest, 10) to meet up with his hurling team for a match outside of Dublin, promptly walking in on me, sitting on the floor with a towel around my shoulders (it was cold). 8 AM--I was sick, but nothing really came up. 8:10--walked down to ask Ger for some medication. Took said medication, but wasn't helping. In a panic, I called Mom and Dad. After some deliberation over the phone, I woke Jacqui up, who declared I had a "tummy bug." Around 8:45 AM, I officially fell asleep on the bathroom floor. I woke up at 9:15, and moved back to bed, where I stayed until 11 AM, after I began to feel much better. I pretty much stayed in bed until it was time to eat dinner, where I ate a little of the food (pork chops, boiled carrots, and potato). We packed, gave Jacqui and Ger their thank you gifts (which they loved, thank goodness), and boarded the bus for the ride back to DeansHall.

Needless to say, I didn't do much for the rest of the evening. No worries--as I said before, I'm not really having any problems now with that.

On a lighter and less gross note, I had my first fiddle lesson this morning, where I learned a Kerry Polka. I have the lesson recorded on my computer (albeit not very well--I need to buy a microphone for my iPod for better sound quality) and maybe, one day, I'll figure out how to put that stuff up here. It was a good lesson, despite the fact that I got elbowed in the face while trying to hold the door open for my professor as he carried more chairs in. I think we're even now--I had my embarrassing moment last week when I was afraid to play for him, and he had his this week when he elbowed me.

I also got a chance to talk to a lot of friends today, both over the internet and phone. It was good to hear how people are doing and what's going on at Northwestern. I miss it a bit, but I'm starting to really adjust (I thought I had been adjusted before, but I was only adjusted to the Early Start schedule).

Tonight, I have rehearsal with the Cork School of Music's Symphony Orchestra for the second time. In the meantime, I need to heat up dinner (leftovers from last week that I stuck in the freezer), warm up, and get a little work on my papers done.

Until then,

Carrigaline

Hello, all!

I just thought I'd let everyone know I'll be gone again this weekend--I'll be spending the next two and a half days in Carragaline, a small town in Cork County about 12 km from Cork City (where I'm currently living), with the Spillanes. Jacqui, Ger, and their two children will be hosting Lauren, Jules, and me for Arcadia's homestay program this weekend.

Jacqui is a housewife and her husband, Gerard, is an IT manager. They have two sons--Gary ('91) and Ben ('97). Ger enjoys gaelic games and soccer; Jacqui, walking and swimming. The two boys enjoy computer games, movies, and football.

Sounds like I'll feel quite at home between the soccer fanatics and the computer games!

See you all on the other side,

photoblog photoblog

There are more pictures up on the Picasa Weblog!

I'm looking into making video posts--I can't seem to get to more typing after I've spent a few hours taking notes in the library. I guess you all will just have to wait and see what I come up with!

(Sorry, Sofia, for taking a page out of your book. Hope you're having a great time in Scotland so far!)

An Abundance of Pictures

Okay, so I haven't ever updated with my travels in Dingle--there's a good reason! I've been far to busy frolicking around the lovely county Cork with friends and classmates to even think about sitting down at a computer and typing for hours. To tide you over until I get my act together, I've put together a picasa web album that should keep you entertained for at least fifteen minutes.

You can find it here.

Okay, so maybe only five minutes. Give me some credit, please.

Is it still a field trip if you're at a University?

I will be gallivanting around west Co. Cork and west Co. Kerry for the next four days with my Early Start in Musics class. We'll be out on the Dingle peninsula for most of the trip, with free mornings--the hostel at which we're staying has bikes for hire, so a friend and I may bike down around Dingle during the mornings.

For those of you who are interested, here's the itinerary:

Thursday:
Sliabh Luachra (Sleeve Lochra, SL) Tour (the SL is an important region for trad music)
Lunch in Castleisland towards Abbeyfeale, past Brosna and Mountcollins
Concert in Bruach na Carriage Teach Cheiol, Rochchapel, featuring local SL musicians and
dancers with local historian, Jack Roche
Dinner in Belle Bia, Tralee
Show at the Siamsa Tire Theater, Oileain--the story of the Blasket Islands

Friday:
Dance workshop with Daithi in an Droichead Beag
Blacket Island Center, Dunquin
Lecture on Music on the blasket Islands by Aoife (Eefuh) Granville
Dinner in Dingle
Concert in St. James Church, Dingle

Saturday:
Walking tour of Dingle area with TP O Conchuir
Talk on music in Ireland by Nuala O' Connor
Dinner in Novecento Italian
Session in the Droichead

Sunday:
Depart Dingle to Killarney
via Anascual, Inch, Castlemaine, and Milltown
Free time in Killarney (I'm going to the national park)
Depart Killarney for Cork City, via Ballyvourney and Macroom

A nice long update should occur sometime on Sunday or Monday, so watch for it!

An Exceedingly Long Entry

Remember how I live next to the Beamish Irish Stout Factory? Yes, that's the one. This past week, they have been hosting the Cork Folk Festival (happens every August), an event that starts rather quietly with a few small performances on a Tuesday night and ends with the bang of the Ceili Mor (pronounced kaylee more) and open-air Celtic Market on a Sunday. In addition to being in Cork for the festival, I also have the pleasure of taking a class (which meets everyday) with someone who arranged a fair amount of the festival, Michelle Finnerty. This meant getting the inside scoop on all of the acts that were to be appearing in addition to (on occasion) having the entrance fee to some of the events taken care of by the Music Department at UCC. As you can imagine, this has made this past week exceedingly busy.

Monday started off with my first class of the year (9:30 AM--not a terrible time unless you consider the fact that you must first walk about 15 minutes, all up hill, to get to class) in which we mainly went over the schedule for the next four weeks and talked about the different events that would be available to us over the next week because of the Folk Festival. That nigher making a "family dinner," most of us went over to An Spailpin Fanach, my favorite pub so far (the upstairs gig venue pictured on the left; pronounced an spall-peen faun-ach). Two minutes from my apartment complex, the Spailpin is really more like the pubs you expect to find in Ireland--nook and cranny rooms, odd posters and signs hanging on the walls, and a very local contingent that loves to drunkenly sing. Also interesting is their masonry--in each stone/brick wall, there are several mugs and plates that have been cemented permanently into place. In any case, every Monday night at the Spailpin there is live music. For free. Come the end of September, it will be where the UCC Traditional Music Society holds it's late night sessions, which is just perfect for me, as the walk home is both short and well lit.

Tuesday started again with a long walk up a long hill--this time for a lecture on Trad Music by Daithi Kearney (Dah-hee; pictured on the right in the striped shirt, dancing with none other than Michelle Finnerty, coordinator of my course), a PhD student at UCC. I honestly don't think I've had a more fast paced introduction in my entire life. Despite his speed, Daithi managed to impart more knowledge than was probably humanly possible--the lecture was a mix of general Irish History (imperative for understanding the context of trad music), trad music history and development, musical and dance styles, performances and demonstrations. During the lecture, Daithi managed to play fiddle, celtic harp, tin whistle, two button accordion, four string banjo, as well as sing in the sean-nos (old-style) tradition and the English Ballad tradition, finally topping off the lecture with a demonstrdation of a particular region's style of step dancing.

That evening, at 8 PM, we gathered again in the Spailpin to learn something else from Daithi--set dancing. Over the course of an hour and a half, all nineteen of my classmates learned how to do a two-handed reel, The Walls of Limerick (a four handed dance), The Siege of Ennis (an eight-handed dance), a Slide Waltz (two hands), and a Fling (three hands). It was the most fun that I'd had yet. I promise that when I come home, I'll teach everyone how to do them (I even wrote the steps down in a field journal I'm keeping for class just so I wouldn't forget).

Wednesday started a little later than the past two days had, as Michelle knew we were bound to be tired after the previous night. Lecture that morning was handled by Brian Miller, another friend of Michelle's, who happens to be a talented trad flautist, guitarist, and singer from Bimidji, Minnesota. He had been here in Cork seven years earlier for the same program I'm in--and he's been back at least once a year, ever since. Again, lecture was a very whirlwind experience, although this time, things made a little more sense as Daithi had helped to give all the information Brian imparted on us some context. Lecture ended a hour and a half later, and we were given an hour and a half for lunch. Not wanting the brave the hill again, Dan (my flatmate), Laura (another Arcadia student), Sam (a fiddler from Maine) and I went to get some sandwiches from a store up the street from the music building, then taking them up to the Cork City Gaol, where there are a few picnic tables and a fantastic view of the city. Around 2 PM, we walked back down to the Music Department, where we had another hour and a half workshop and performance on singing, led by Brian Miller and Nora Rendel (a Canadian with a similar story to Brian's). We were left with the evening free, although a few of my flat mates and I went back to the Spailpin, where we paid the cover charge to see Tommie Cunniffe, newly married husband of Michelle, who also happens to be one of the best "box" players (accordion) I've ever heard. Phenomenal. (They also had this fantastic bodhran player that just blew me away.)

Thursday was most likely a boring lecture day for the other students, although I enjoyed some of it. It was on Thursday that the class met Paul Everett, one of the heads of the Music Department. Mr. Everett lectured on European Art Music in Dublin, specifically Handel and the Music of Georgian Dublin (the Messiah was premiered in Dublin). It would have been more interesting had he actually talked about the Messiah, but we didn't actually get to that until Friday, when he lectured again. Both days had a very similar set up to my music history class at home, so it made me feel very comfortable.

While I didn't spend any time at the Spailpin (or any other live music venue) on Thursday (I chose to create my own music with Dan and Sam), we were afforded the opportunity to see Lunasa, one of the biggest trad music groups in Ireland, for free at the Metropole Hotel on Friday night. It was a truly amazing experience. Oh, and at some point before that, I became a legal Irish visitor. It was a happy day, despite the long wait at immigration.

Saturday was a fairly quiet day--I was supposed to go to a Fiddle Masterclass (held at Spailpin) around 11 AM, but as I was leaving, I ran in to Sam who had just been. Apparently, the fiddle player running the class was terribly ill, and Michelle was unable to find a replacement. So, instead of fiddling the morning away, I cooked, making breakfast for all my flatmates and Sam. It was a tasty experience. I then spent the rest of Saturday cleaning the apartment for lack of things to do. Well, there were plenty of things to do (especially with the festival), but I didn't particularly feel like paying for them.

Sunday opened with a trip to St. Fin Barre's, the cathedral down the street from my flat. It's a part of the Church of Ireland, which makes it a similar experience to Canterbury at school. There also happened to be a Baptism that morning, making service far more lively than it was last weekend. Following the service, I went back to the flat to prepare for the Ceili Mor--my favorite part of the Folk Festival. Cork City closes down St. Patrick's street, one of the main streets of the city, sets up the Kilfenora Ceili Band (one of the most famous Ceili bands in Ireland), and just dances. Luckily for all of us in the music class, Daithi had taught us most of the dances that were to be done that day, so we actually sort of knew what we were doing. For other friends that had no clue, a few of us taught them the basic steps so they could at least fake it. Now, I don't have pictures (I was too busy dancing), but I do have quite a few friends who took a ton of pictures (or so I've been told). I think someone might even have a video. When they put them up, I'll pass them on.

After an hour and a half to two hours of dancing, I was exhausted. I wandered around the Celtic Market for a bit (lots of jewelry, soap, and baked goods), I found my flatmates in a pub, watching the Hurling final. I sat there for a while, then moved back to the flat so I could find some advil for my legs. Thinking about it now, sitting in the pub was probably the worst thing I could have done--no stretching.

This morning's start wasn't actually a morning start: class wasn't until 2 PM. Nora (the Canadian) ran the lecture on Corkonian song styles. After class, I went all around Cork city to try and find a book of comedic songs by Con O Drisceoil titled The Spoons Murder and other mysteries. I still have not found it, although I have gotten two promising leads that I may or may not check out tomorrow.

Oh, yes, I'm moving tomorrow. Not Thursday. Oh well.

Well, in any case, tomorrow should be an interesting day--I have to get up early and go to the International Education Office, followed by an hour and a half lecture on the Contemporary Irish Song Tradition (Nora again), and then a two hour lecture on regional styles in trad music (Daithi). I will then have to high-tail it home to get my new flat assignment and move.

Note about the pictures above: These pictures have been taken from xeer's flicker site.

Adjustment, Apartments, and Academics

Adjustment:

I've been here for about three weeks now, and seem to be adjusting to life in a different culture fairly admirably. Of course, some things are still just a bit strange--peanut butter doesn't really exist; locals love coleslaw, ham and butter sandwiches; you really shouldn't try and pick out your own medicine at the pharmacy (how was I supposed to notice the low counter in front of the shelves?). Starting class has really helped me learn my way around town, as I'm constantly trying to find a shorter way to get to the Music Department (for those of you who have never been blessed with the opportunity to visit St. Vincent's, it's located at the top of one of Cork's largest hills). In my haste to find the way, I've taken several interesting detours around city center.

Apartments:

I'm currently living at Deanshall Crosses Green, right in between St. Fin Barre's Cathedral and the Beamish Irish Stout Brewery. This interesting juxtaposition usually results in hearing church bells while smelling dried hops (which, by the way, is not a pleasant smell). My flatmates consist of four other Americans: Rachel, in room one, who's a petite little lady from Maine; Dan, in room three, an artist/musician who is like the big brother I never had; Laura, in room four, who closely resembles my friend Susan in looks as well as personality, mannerisms, and interests; and Cat, in room five, who makes me laugh to no end. We often make dinner together, eating as a pseudo-family. Unfortunately, we're moving into separate apartments this Thursday.

Academics:

Even though I'm only currently in one class, the course schedule is very demanding. I usually have a three hour lecture in the morning, followed by an hour movie, performance, or concert in the afternoon. Next Thursday (the day I'm also moving), I'm leaving on a four day trip with my class to west Co. Cork and Co. Kerry to experience local music and dancing.

I'd write more, but my flatmates have just arrived home after a day of gallivanting around Cork City and Cobh. Time to start dinner!