As a result of the ever present threat of exams, much of my last few weeks in Dublin were spent trapped inside the prison cell of Goldsmith, with occasional jaunts to our library.
After returning from relaxing in Madrid, I had a week until my first exam: Ireland since 1900. A couple days were devoted to transcribing all my many class, tutorial, and reading notes onto cards. The tactic of memorizing a stack of 100 or so cards has served me well in the states, and so I hit my stride and started writing. In between writing and studying, I committed myself to running three miles a day, by taking laps around Saint Stephen’s Green. One day I saw a couple sheep and two lambs in front of Leinster House.
Breaking up the monotony of constant studying and even more constant watching of the West Wing and completing the three seasons of the ???, my friend Katherine arrived. She had been studying in Florence, and had toured Europe following exams. Dublin was her last stop, so after writing about the significance of World War One and De Valera’s Ireland, Sean and I took her to experience the Pav. That was the nature of Thursday through Saturday.
Katherine explored the city during the day, while I struggled to redouble my efforts on European Societies (another week between exams). At night we visited MacTorcaills and even Porterhouse once. On Saturday night, we watched as Jedward lost the Eurovision competition to a group from Azerbaijan. Since we were not permitted guests during exams, Katherine and I had to be back before midnight each night. As a result, we watched the movies on my hard drive: Love Actually, Avatar, and Blue Harvest.
When she departed on Sunday morning, I returned my still divided attention to preparing for my next exam. So naturally I devoted sufficient attention to the Survivor: Redemption Island season finale, A Game of Thrones, How I Met Your Mother, Modern Family, The Middle, and the West Wing. Despite my procrastination, I managed three or more hours of studying per day. Which considering the length of time between exams, was not poor at all. A minor victory was achieved on Tuesday when I finished torturing my hand with the writing of note cards.
A more major victory was achieved by Ireland, as the Queen became the first British Monarch to visit the country in over 100 years. More than ten thousand security personnel flooded the city and erected various pedestrian barricades to ensure that Her Majesty would not interact with any of the fringe elements of Irish Republicanism. Beyond the poignancy of her visit, students at Trinity were less than enthused with the prospect of Red and Orange security zones on campus, a closed library on Tuesday, and not a few traffic disruptions when commuting to campus for exams. More important, she disrupted my laundry schedule.
More than 1500 pictures, in close to 4 minutes, documenting my months abroad
On Friday, in the Sports Centre, I wrote about European identity, the effect of welfare states on female labor market participation, and the decline of Multiculturalism. As with my first exam, the invigilators – the administrators with a name connoting Harry Potter villains – were in full force and keen to shout at any hint of talking when we should be filling out our booklets. Unlike Regent House, which hosted my history exam, the sports centre boasted several hundred students packed into neat rows. The closest comparison to an exam at Trinity is a standardized test like the SAT or ACT, but with far more participants and testing diversity.
That night we celebrated another Last Pint at MacTorcaills, which heralded the last few days before my return to Boston. While the following days I was focused on studying for Comparative Welfare States. At that point I had identified the perfect number of topics to revise. My essays focused on an evaluation of the Dutch welfare state, the importance of politics on retrenchment or restructuring decisions, and the coherence of Third Way policies. After completing that exam in Luce Upper – a basketball court - I joined up with Russell and Louise to celebrate with libations at the Pav.
After a few cans of Bavaria, four of us set out for Christ Church and the one access point for President Obama’s speech. Three hours later, and I arrived in front of a large screen 100 or so yards away from his address. Given the pace of walking and secret service security screening, just reaching that point seemed impossible when stuck in an endless line by Christ Church Cathedral. Still the flashbacks of the inauguration yielded to a series of performers – including Jedward – a fiery introduction by the often blasé Enda Kenny, and an excellent speech by President Obama on the intertwined histories of Ireland and the States. To win over an already electric audience, the President concluded with Yes We Can in Irish and English.
Once I watched the motorcade pass and saw Michelle Obama wave to my side of the street, I returned exhausted to Goldsmith and my unfinished packing. Dinner then gave way to a final last pint at MacTorcaills. Beyond the final drinks in Ireland with friends from the island and friends from the States, we ran into a girl who had just been in Ashland. The improbability of someone visiting Ashland and being in MacTorcaills, one of 700 pubs in Dublin, at the moment that I arrive at the bar, was astounding enough to push my transition back to the States one step further (all the flags for Obama helped too).
At 5am the next morning, I set out with John and Maggie for the airport. Fear of Icelandic ash led the most technologically advanced plane in the world, Air Force One, to whisk the President to England early, so we were not a little concerned that our planes would not leave the ground. As insurance, I had secured a spot in Russell’s apartment should the ash leave me homeless. Fortunately, my Air France shuttle left for Paris unhindered and soon I was in massive Charles de Gaulle airport waiting for my double-decker Boeing to take me to Boston.
Soon thereafter I took my seat 55B, the last seat on the left-hand side of the plane. Although not the preferred seat for a quick exit, the extra space to my left was welcomed (as no third seat could be fit).The flight was uneventful with marginally improved food as compared to my Delta flight a few months ago. No Strings Attached was a predictable and lackluster romantic comedy and I slept during Tron Legacy. Of note was my final two legal beers until August, a Phoenix from Mauritius and a Heineken with dinner. Eight hours leaving Paris at 1:35pm, we arrived at Logan Airport at 3:20pm.
After 4 months and 17 days, my study abroad experience ended.
For those who read this blog from the start to the finish, there are 36,065 words (not including this sentence).
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