Almost Getting Deported, Lawsuits, and Life in Dublin

So I know that I'm no longer "A Nebraskan in France" but rather "A Nebraskan in Ireland." Deal with it.

My first week in Dublin has been a whirlwind. It was tough saying goodbye to Angers, and the journey to Dublin didn't go as smoothly as I had planned. Namely, I almost got deported and had to leave half my luggage at Charles DeGaulle in Paris. Let me explain.

Before I left the US, I packed my suitcases to the brim. I wore like six outfits on the plane to France: leggings, pants, two shirts, two dresses, and a cardigan, plus a coat. Before you judge me, my parents were originally planning to travel around France with me right after the semester ended (Read: two empty suitcases that could be used for everything and anything I happened to pick up in Europe). Yeah....didn't happen. So I was stuck with trying to lug everything I had originally brought plus a collection of oddities that I acquired over the semester. A large collection: maps, ticket stubs, pint glasses from around Europe, coasters, paper napkins from restaurants, postcards.

There was only one thing that stood in the way of me bringing all of my travelling wonders home: Aer Lingus and their weight limits.

Specifically, their 12 euro PER KILOGRAM surcharge on luggage. Meaning, between my two suitcases, I was looking at a fine of 400 euros. Excusez-moi? Non, merci!

So I had exactly five minutes to toss out about half my suitcase. Socks, underwear, and my beloved pint glass collection were the first to go. It still wasn't enough, and I had to part with several dear items of clothing. I may or may not have worn a ridiculous combination of clothes (including my raincoat and winter peacoat) in the airport in a last-ditch attempt to salvage what I could and screw the airlines at the same time. Win-win. In the midst of it all, I somehow thought it would be a great idea to throw out my umbrella. Dumb. Dumb. So dumb. The concept of rain=Dublin weather was lost in my brain as the Aer Lingus attendants yelled at me in French to hurry up. I took a last look at my belongings sitting there in the trash, all helpless and alone, and ran to catch my flight in the terminal. At the terminal, I met my Irish friend Jessica coincidentally--we had studied in Angers together and she'd missed her earlier flight, thanks to Aer Lingus luggage restrictions.

I slept the whole way to Dublin, and I was incredibly excited to finally arrive. That is, until I arrived in Customs and Immigration. I went up to the counter, and the man asked what my purpose was in Ireland. Without thinking, I blurted out, "I'm working for the Justice Department." "Where's your job permit?" the officer inquired. Shit. I hadn't even thought about it. "I'm with the my university in the US, they arranged everything," I replied, my voice starting to tremble a bit. "I'm sorry, but you're going to find an alternate means back to France. We can't let you into Ireland if your purpose is to work and you don't have a job permit. Will you step aside please?"

I lost it. I think it was the combination of me running on about 3 hours of sleep the past 72 hours, the emotional turmoil of having the say goodbye to people and places I loved, not to mention ditching a bunch of my stuff in a bin at the Paris airport. People in line behind me stared as I bawled my eyes out, called our program coordinator in Dublin, Eimear, and tried to explain the situation to her. Eventually I handed the phone to the customs official, who I think was more shaken up than I was that a 20 year old girl was having an emotional breakdown in front of him. Eimear took care of the situation (I should have said, "I'm here for an internship paid by the University of Notre Dame in the US at the Justice Department"), and I was off to baggage claim to meet her.

Although getting to Ireland did not go smoothly, I immediately felt at home in Dublin as we drove through the winding streets, across the River Liffey, by the various squares, and past rows of brick houses with brightly colored doors. The city has a certain friendliness to it; I've never visited Ireland before, but I felt like I've lived here forever. Maybe it's the lack of language barrier, my being Irish, or the easy-going nature of most Irish people. Who knows, I like it.

We went to University College of Dublin (UCD), where I'm staying for the summer. The dorms here a new-ish and quite nice, and my bed is the most comfortable thing ever. It looks out over a field and you can see the Dublin mountains in the distance. I met up with the other Notre Dame interns, Paul, Rochelle, Erica, Amanda, and Joanna, who are all amazing people; we're all rising seniors (SO SCARY!) and have internships at various Irish organizations (the Irish Film Institute, the Department of Foreign Affairs, the National Galleries, etc.). We went for fish and chips on O'Connell Street and then an Irish pub for some Bulmers (hard Irish cider).

Excellent if I do say so myself.

On Sunday, it poured rain (surprise!)

Paul and I went to explore Dublin, eventually happening upon this little bookstore called the Winding Stair, near the River Liffey, and we spent a few hours absorbed there, finding a few interesting books:

We then walked to mass. The church was in the northwest part of the city, which is much more blue collar than most parts of Dublin 2/south of the Liffey. The congregation was heavily immigrant, which kind of surprised me. The priest was hilarious to Paul and I, but somehow his jokes were lost on most of the audience. At the end of mass, the priest encouraged us to seek out our local pub in order to celebrate the bank holiday the next day. Only in Ireland!

I started work at the Equality Tribunal in the Department of Justice that Tuesday, since Monday was a bank holiday.

Work at the Equality Tribunal has been good so far. Sometimes it's a bit slow, but the people are extremely nice, they do meaningful and important work, and I'm actually learning a lot about law in the process. And did I mention that we get tea time at work? Well, we do. When there aren't any hearings to go to, I do some legal research for cases or I'm instructed to read court decisions and heavy legal books on discrimination, European justice codes, employment equality, and equal status. Some of it can be a tad dry for my liking, but the court decisions can sometimes be quite entertaining.

The best ones I've read so far:

a) A father bringing a case against the Catholic school of his young son because the boys were required to wear a suit or nice pants and tie for their first communion, while the girls had the option of wearing their school uniform or a nice outfit. Equal status, people.

2) A paraplegic couple suing a theme park because they felt discriminated against since they could not ride on all of the same rides as able-bodied people.

3) An English man who brought a case against the school he taught at because he felt that he wasn't being promoted in the Irish-Catholic school because "All Irish people hate the English." You can't make this stuff up.

4) A couple who tried to bring their baby into a bar in the evening were told that "it may be a little late for that" and felt discriminated against on the grounds of family status. And won. Welcome to Ireland.

The Equality Tribunal deals mostly with employment and equal status discrimination. While there are the usual grounds for discrimination (i.e. gender, race, handicap, etc.), I was confused when I came across references to "the Traveller Community" in the legal documents. At first, I thought it just meant tourists, but after asking about it, I found that the Travellers are a minority community in Ireland, much like gypsies (althought they are distinct from what Americans think of as gypsies, the ethnic minority the Roma). They roam around Ireland and often face negative stereotypes and discrimination. It is unclear whether they are an ethnic minority, and for the most part they have refused to integrate into society. Interesting stuff.

Each day in Dublin is something new. I work by St. Stephen's Green, a large park with a duck pond and lovely gardens.

After work, I love just walking around and taking it all in. I've found a yoga studio here in Dublin, and I got a subscription to Dublin Bikes, the city's bike-sharing program, so I'll bike around when it's not raining out, soaking everything up.

There's something incredibly satisfying to me about seeing new places and gradually becoming familiar with them: the stone bridge over the pond I take getting to work, the paths on Portobello Road by the canal, the coffee shops and Irish-name-here bars that are on every block.

There's also quite a bit of epic sign-age:

Liars and thieves I understand. But cowboys? You really want to attack the cowboys, irishanarchism.org?

"70,000 for a degree?" Hey, what is this, the US or something?

This sign is on every rubbish bin:

a gentle reminder:

Last weekend was the Taste of Dublin, which happened directly behind my office building.

They had an "Irish Celebrity VIP" event on Friday, and basically my whole office took an hour off work to spot the "stars" from our balcony. I put "stars" in quotes because I had never heard of any of them. Zero. Zip. None. At least it was exciting for the other people in the office.

Cupcake dress? Sign me up!

I wasn't planning on going to Taste of Dublin because the tickets were 28 euro just to get in (and then you had to buy your own food inside), but I got a free ticket on the street, and the copious amounts of free samples of wine, cheese, juices, fruit, chocolates, breads, brews, and desserts were fabulous.

The only thing I can't recommend would be a black pudding. I found out after I had eaten it (and nearly spit it out) that it's made from blood. NOT chocolate. Don't go there, girlfriend.

The World Cup has started, and last Friday's match between the US and England was pretty epic. We dressed in American flags (unfortunately, wearing red white and blue wasn't good enough since England has the same colors) and watched the game at a local pub, the Porterhouse.

Most of the Irish people were cheering for America (partly because they like the US and partly because they dislike England), and the entire place was shouting "USA! USA! USA!" A great night.

Other than that, I'm enjoying cooking in our kitchen (lots of pesto, hummus, soups, and curries),

(my house mates don't exactly object :)

sampling Guiness in various locales (it's a bit different in every pub),

and finding out random bits of genealogy from various people, including my boss at work, who once spent about 45 minutes looking up the Brosnihans on the internet with me. Apparently we're from two or three towns in County Kerry, and it was likely that they were flax growers. I'm planning a trip there, so maybe I'll bump into some of them and have an awkward conversation about how we may be distantly related. Here's hoping.

"I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die discover that I had not lived" -Thoreau

Cheers.

Claire