Poland

The first half of spring break, Ethan, Nick, and I were in Poland. We flew into Warsaw on Easter Sunday evening/night and took a night-train to Krakow. We arrived in Krakow at about 3am on Monday. Because we had had a change of plans that let us arrive earlier, we had no lodging until Monday night; we ended up hanging out in the train station until we could hitch a ride on a train to Wieliczka--the town with the famous salt mines.

We arrived in the town and had an early tour of the mines. It lasted about an hour or an hour and a half and was very interesting. The best part (in my opinion) was the chapel in the salt mines. Everything in the chapel was carved out of salt, including several statues and chandeliers. It was very beautiful and incredibly impressive.

After taking a bus back to Krakow, we planned to go to Wadowice (Pope Saint John Paul II's hometown). We took a bus there and explored the town. We went to the church there; it was very beautiful, even though it was in a very small town. We also had lunch here. I had the largest kebab (a Turkish wrap, kind of like a gyro, but with a tortilla) I have ever had--it was at least a foot and a half long. We ended the visit with a trip to the JPII museum. That was also a very interesting tour (although the guide spoke in Polish, so I was limited to taking in pictures and captions).

We got back to Krakow fairly late and decided to check into our AirBnb and get food. We settled on burgers for the first night (they are easy and usually have English speaking workers). After eating, we turned in for the night.

The next day was an early one, as we wanted to get to Czestchowa  early. In that town, there is a monastery with the miraculous image of Our Lady (aptly named 'Our Lady of Czestchowa'). The monastery was very cool and seeing the image was awesome. We were there early in the day, but there were still a lot of people there (apparently several thousand people visit it every day). We then had breakfast (very cheap but very good) and started trying to get back to Krakow. This turned into a bit of an adventure. There was a train going to Krakow, but it was going to the wrong station for us, and it was leaving hours after we would have liked. We decided to try a bus. None of the ladies selling tickets at the bus station spoke English very well, and all but one did not even try to help (of course, none of us spoke Polish--but we are Americans, so it's to be expected). The one lady who helped us pointed us outside and seemed to give us a station number. We went and looked but found nothing. We then saw the lady motioning to us from a door on the side of the building. Not knowing what else to do, we followed her inside. She appeared to tell us to wait outside a door, and then she left us. After several minutes of standing in a very narrow hall with several doors along it, the door she motioned to opened, and a woman came out. I took that as our cue to go in, so we did. Inside were a couple of Polish women typing on very old keyboards. I greeted them with a 'dzien dobry' and was greeted likewise. I then asked if they spoke English. One of them said she spoke a little. I started talking to her, explaining that we wanted to go to Krakow. She understood and started typing stuff into her computer. She found us a bus and asked for our passports. We turned them over to her so should could get information for the tickets from them. Somehow, she put in our names in three different ways: I was Thorp Brendan, Nick was Nicholas Waddell, and Ethan was Andrews Ethan King. She then needed a phone number. While looking for the selection for an American phone (she had to scroll through all the countries of the world until she reached 'United States,' however, she decided to click the arrow all the way down instead of dragging the sidebar, which I think caused Nick great agony and distress to watch), she seemed to drop an expletive in English (I turned to the other two and said, "She speaks English"), but she got it done. She printed our tickets, we thanked her (jinkue or something like that), and we were on our way. After leaving, we realized that the tickets did not say where the bus would pick us up. We tried to figure it out, but to no avail. We walked back into the train station and talked to the first lady again. She wrote a '14' on top of our ticket, so we stood by station 14. Eventually, a bus pulled up; it was the correct one, and we made it back to Krakow.

That night in Krakow, we ate authentic Polish food. We spent the equivalent of about 10 bucks and had more food than the three of us could finish, and it was delicious.

The next day, our last full one in Poland, we spent the morning wandering around the city. We visited the cathedral (it is magnificent, rivaling even some of the churches in Rome), the castle in Krakow, and wandered the streets. I ate a paczki (a doughnut like Polish pastry) and ate food at a recommended German restaurant. Ethan and I each had a liter of beer (faintly banana flavored--also recommended by a friend).

In the afternoon, we went to Auschwitz. Needless to say, words are not really going to do it justice. I would recommend people go and see it--it is not something that should be forgotten--but be ready to get hit hard, particularly in a few places. The one light in that dark place is the cell of St. Maximilian Kolbe. The memorial to this great Saint is a beautiful site amidst so much horror; a reminder that, even in the worst times and places in history, there are still good and hope-filled people.

The next day was spent bumming around Krakow until it was time to leave for Ukraine.

Station Mass

For Lent this year, I made a commitment to participate in the Station Mass pilgrimage as often as possible (exceptions being when I was not in Rome and the unanticipated snow day). This pilgrimage was started by St. Phillip Neri after the Reformation as a devotional to early church saints and martyrs. Each day people would go to a different church in Rome for Mass in the morning, eventually visiting about forty of Rome's many churches. The practice died off, but was revived in recent years by the North American College (the college that houses seminarians from North America and Australia). It is a sacrifice of sleep (I got up at about five in the morning everyday that I went to Mass), but it was a beautiful way to see some old churches and celebrate Mass in English.

Many of the churches are basilicas that were built over old house churches (places that Christians gathered before they could legally practice the faith in the Roman Empire). They also often had crypts where older churches, art, and tombs could be seen; many of these crypts are only open to the public on the day of the Station Mass.

One of the great joys of participating in the Station Masses (aside from receiving the body of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ) was hanging out with our chaplains afterwards. Many Masses were followed by breakfast with the priests and seminarians who served our program (more on them in another post).

It was also a lot of fun getting to know the other people who frequented the Masses. One of the girls in our group--who spoke German--ended up helping a lady from Germany film little videos that she would send back to her followers in that country after every Mass. There were also several priests and seminarians not from our group that we got to know fairly well.

If anyone reading this finds themselves in Rome during Lent, I would highly recommend making the sacrifice of a little sleep to go to the Station Mass for at least one of the days. It is a beautiful, interesting, and awesome experience.

"Touch My Monkey" and Other Stories from the Land of Ukraine (Part Two)

The Second Part in a Series of Stories About Ukraine

"Touch My Monkey"
After the experience with the cab driver the night before, we needed to get more money. This meant that we needed to find an ATM, which should have been an easy task. However, the ATMs we found would not accept our cards Eventually, we found ourselves in an underground mall. I was attempting to pull money out of the machine when my two friends were accosted by two men; each man had a monkey on his shoulder--not a stuffed monkey, but a living, breathing, scurrying monkey. One of the men looked at Ethan and said, "Touch my monkey" (hence the name of the title of the story...see what I did there). Now, having been in Europe for long enough, the three of us knew that guys like this like to offer some novelty, acting really friendly, and then demand a ton of money for it. That being the case, Ethan said, "No thank you." However, after an exchange that was essentially just various re-phrasings of, "No really, touch my monkey," and "No, I really do not want to touch your monkey," the two men just put the monkeys on Ethan. Nick then pulled out his camera (after-all, it is not everyday you get to take a picture of Ethan with monkeys crawling all over him), which was exactly what the two men wanted: "Oh yes, take a picture, take a picture." At this point, there was no way to really back out of it, so Nick took the picture. The two men then put the monkeys on Nick and Ethan took a picture. Right on queue, the two men took back their monkeys and started demanding money. "You have pictures of our monkeys. You must pay." However, Nick and Ethan were broke. The two men then turned to me (I had just finished not getting anything from the ATM) and told me that I had to pay them for my friends pictures. I respectfully declined, as the ATM had not worked (not that I would have given them anything even if I had received money). They did not seem to understand (or they were just jack-wagons--likely the latter of the two) and continued to tell me that I owed them money. We were making our way out of the mall, but the two men continued to follow us. One of them pulled out his phone and said, "I am going to call security."

* * * 

Now here is the lesson for anyone who will be travelling to Europe in the future: people such as these two, or the "gladiators" (they are dressed as Roman legionaries, actually--how they could not know that is beyond me) outside the Colosseum, or the men who give bird seed to people to attract pigeons to them for a picture (why anyone would want those disgusting birds anywhere near them is a mystery--unless it is to kick them) are often doing "business" illegally. I have seen a number of the pigeon feeders kicked out of the area that they are "working" in by police, and our professor said that most people have been wanting to make it illegal (rather than just frowned upon) for the "gladiators" to "work" outside the Colosseum and other historical sites. Essentially, what I am trying to say is, if you are somehow goaded into taking a picture with someone like the "gladiators", or someone puts bracelets and weird charm things on your wrist, or someone covers you with monkeys, you do not have to pay them, even if they demand money (or another one of their tricks, say they need money for food (they will take back whatever "free" stuff they gave you if you do not pay them)).

* * *

What I was thinking in my head when the guy said he was going to call security was, "Oh, you'll call security. And then get arrested or at least kicked out of the mall." What I said was, "Sorry, I have no money," and kept walking. Of course, these guys could not actually do anything to us, so they stopped following us as we came out of the underground mall and back to the surface of the Earth.

But wait, there's more.

Upon emerging into the world,within a minute actually, we were approached by a man in a panda suit (not a man with a living panda, just a man in a suit). He said to us (this to be read in a Barney voice), "Hey guys, come take a picture with me." Obviously, after dealing with the monkey men, we were not having any of it; Nick looked at the guy and said, "I don't speak English" (in perfect English, I might add). The panda man yelled an expletive at Nick, and we continued on our merry way.

The Monastery
Most of the first day (after dealing with monkeys and a panda) was spent at a Ukrainian Orthodox Monastery. It was massive, had a half-dozen or more churches, and some of the most beautiful religious art I have seen. We were also able to visit the crypt, which was very dark, aside from the candles people lit in honor of the deceased monks. It was very interesting.

We were at the monastery for the beginning of the Good Friday service and heard some incredible chanting. Ethan enjoyed this tremendously.

On a less holy note (although more holey), the bathrooms were very fitting for a monastery; similar to the monastic toilets in Bulgaria, the toilets were just holes in the ground without a seat. Very simple and monkish.

"Cheer Up, Smile, Nertz"
Ukraine's economy is not the best (but that is to be expected when recovering from occupation by the Soviet Union and being saddled with all the debts from cleaning up a huge nuclear disaster (Chernobyl)). This means that their currency is incredibly devalued. One dollar is worth 27 Ukrainian whatchamacallits. This took some getting used to ("A BigMac for 90 things?! Oh, that is just over 3 dollars. That's a good deal.) I have a Ukrainian penny, which is a little piece of metal that is worth .00037 dollars or three hundredths of an American penny. It is probably worth more to scrap it, but I will keep it as a souvenir.

KFC (Kyev Fried Chicken)
While in Ukraine, we stuck mostly to fast food restaurants to make getting food easier. One of the places we (meaning Ethan and I) went to was KFC (usually referred to as Kentucky Fried Chicken, but we decided that this was Kyev Fried Chicken). At Kyev Fried Chicken, we ordered tacos (because why not got tacos at a KFC in Ukraine); they came in at a whopping buck-and-a-half for two of them. They were small, but good, and they gave us another funny story.

A side-note: Nick could not have KFC, because he is gluten-free (or gluten-intolerant as he likes to say it (although, is he not technically gluten-free if he does not consume gluten?)). Now, why anyone would be intolerant of gluten is beyond me; it is just inconsiderate. To quote Ethan quoting something else, "there are two things I cannot stand: those people who are intolerant of other people's cultures, and the Dutch."

Other Interesting Notes
Three other interesting things that do not really fit in anywhere else:
1. Ukraine uses an entirely different alphabet: the Cyrillic alphabet.
2. All three of us agreed that the best wine we had was in Ukraine and made in Crimea. Sadly, we cannot give a name, as it was spelled in a different alphabet.
3. The Eastern Church celebrates Holy Week the week after the Western Church (I do not know the reason for this), so we actually celebrated Holy Week twice. In Ukraine, we had their Easter Bread, which is pretty much just bread with icing and sprinkles (they even served it to us on the plane ride back to Rome).

Coming Soon...Chernobyl

"Touch My Monkey" and Other Stories from the Land of Ukraine (Part One)

A series of stories from the trip to Ukraine with Nick and Ethan.

Getting There

Ukraine was the second part of Spring Break for Nick, Ethan, and I. We travelled there from Krakow Poland via a bus and two trains, totaling about 12 hours of travel. Originally, we were supposed to travel to Ukraine by two trains, but we were emailed a few weeks before Spring Break and told that there was work on the first train's line, so we had to take a bus first. On the day of travel, we were waiting at the bus station (it seemed like the appropriate place to wait for a bus), but we were not seeing any buses that were going to the city we were headed to. With about fifteen minutes until we were supposed to leave, we went up to the ladies at the ticket counter and were told to go to the train station. That did not make sense, but we rushed there to see if they could help. On the way there, I saw a sign that said "Rail Replacement Bus Service." That sounded right, so we started following signs in that direction. With about five minutes until our departure time, we ended up outside with a bunch of buses. The first one in line was headed to the correct city, thank goodness. But, as we approached, the driver pointed us down the line. Sure enough, down towards the end of the row of buses was another bus going to our city. We rushed over and showed the driver our ticket. He said (or rather communicated) that we were not supposed to be on his bus. Now we were panicking. We had minutes until we were supposed to leave and had been turned down by both drivers. We were about to rush back to the train station, when we saw two buses lined up in the street. We ran up to the first one, showed the driver the ticket, and were welcomed aboard with two minutes to spare.

The rest of the trip went smoothly, with one other funny incident. When we were on the train that would actually take us to Kyev, we had to go through Polish border security and Ukrainian border security. The Ukrainians were very kind to us, but, when they were leaving us, one of them called out, "Good luck," over his shoulder. Good luck. That is not what we wanted to hear, however, we decided that it was more of a 'break a leg' than a 'you have no chance;' he probably just did not know the connotation that 'good luck' can have in English. That was what we told ourselves anyways.

"50 Dollars"

Upon arriving in Kyev at about midnight, we left the train station. We wanted to find a taxi to take us to the place where we would meet our AirBnb host. That was no hard task, for as soon as we left the station, we were bombarded by cab drivers who wanted us (and everyone else) to ride with them. We found a place to look around, wanting a taxi that looked like an actual taxi, rather than some random guy with a car from the 90s. We found one, approached the driver, and showed him where we wanted to go. He said, "50 dollars," which we took to mean 50 Ukrainian dollars (I never actually learned how to pronounce the name of their currency--you can try if you'd like: Ukrainian hryvnia (rihv-nee-uh?) (I have no idea if what I am doing with these parentheses is grammatically legal, but it works in math)). We took the cab, and, upon arrival, discovered that he meant 50 US dollars (the equivalent of over 1300 rye-vin-ai-ay). This was an absolute rip-off (it was less than a ten minute cab ride and it would end up costing us less when we went to the airport almost an hour away), but we did not really have an argument against him. It was also late, we had been travelling for 12 hours, and none of us were in the mood to argue with a frustrated Ukrainian taxi driver. So we paid the 50 dollars worth of hurry-vee-nee-a and went on our way, although not entirely happy. (I am still confused as to why the driver would have assumed that we had 50 US dollars on us when we had just arrived in Ukraine via train. If it had been by plane, I could maybe understand, but we arrived by train--which means that we travelled from somewhere in Europe--so the chances of us having euros was pretty good, but the chances of us having dollars, not so much.

A Late Night Walk

After our taxi experience, we walked through a sketchy looking iron gate and past a guy (probably a little older than us) smoking a cigarette by a set of spiral stairs. The company we were renting our AirBnb from had a sign that said to go up the stairs, so we proceeded up them. The young guy followed us up and introduced himself (I do not recall his name, we will call him Yaroslav) and said that he would check us in. Yaroslav was very friendly and helpful, even going so far as to walk us to our AirBnb to make sure we found it and got in alright. He seemed somewhat confused as to why three American college students were in Ukraine, but he offered us advice and made small talk the whole way to the apartment.

It was a good thing that Yaroslav came with us. It was a somewhat confusing walk, involving a wall to climb (via stairs that were built in to the side) and another sketchy iron gate. The streets were also somewhat creepy, as it was not well lit and there was a lot of construction going on. However, we eventually made it to our room, ready to sleep.

Welcome to the Soviet Union (title to be read in a thick, Eastern European accent)

A few brief comments on our room. It was perfectly livable, but it was certainly an apartment from when Ukraine was a part of the Soviet Union. It was very plain, had several spots on the wooden floor that were soft, a TV from the 90s at the earliest, and a washing machine that appeared to run on water from a filled bathtub. All-in-all, it was a wonderfully queer little place that we enjoyed staying in.

To Be Continued

Benedict Today

Another short essay I wrote for class, this time talking about how the Rule of St. Benedict should be applied today and the lessons that people can learn from it.

The excursion to Subiaco was an awesome experience. Visiting St. Benedict’s first monastery, and being from a Benedictine University, was very interesting. It is in a beautiful, remote spot, and the monk who led us around was very friendly and very smart. However, the interaction with him does raise some questions about how The Rule of St. Benedict should apply to monasteries today. St. Benedict could never have imagined a world like the one we live in now, with cameras, cell phones, cars, etc. However, his rule is written in such a way that it should be able to be applied even 2,000 years after his death.

            

Dom Marizio, the monk with whom we interacted, was taking pictures (for the monasteries website) and making jokes all the while we were visiting. Based on all the places that St. Benedict writes that a monk should never joke or laugh and should minimize talking and interaction (even with guests[1]), it would seem that the monks of Subiaco are not living “true” to The Rule. However, in the Prologue to The Rule, St. Benedict writes, “we intend to establish a school for the Lord’s service…The good of all concerned…may prompt us to a little strictness in order to amend faults and to safeguard love.[2]” If the ultimate goal of The Rule is service of the Lord and safeguarding love, then it seems safe to say that The Rule itself should not get in the way of either of these things.

While there is certainly a place for a strict and absolute observance of Benedict’s rule—it is good to have people who are willing to make such drastic sacrifices in service of God—the monks of Subiaco, I believe, have realized that there is an opportunity for evangelization and education by opening up their monastery (it being of enough historical significance to have people wanting to visit it) and have decided that, for the sake of serving God and spreading His love, it is okay for at least one or two monks to interact with people, and to do so in a fun and engaging way. We read about a similar scenario in St. Gregory’s book, The Life of St. Benedict, as well. Benedict, desiring to strictly follow his rule, wants to return to his monastery immediately after his visit with his sister, St. Scholastica. Scholastica would like him to stay, so she prays and gets her way; a storm comes in preventing Benedict from leaving. St. Gregory writes that this was a lesson in charity for Benedict, showing that The Rule is important, but that it should never trump love.

It is ideas and themes such as these that (I believe) have led to the longevity of the Benedictine Order. The idea that rules should only be followed insofar as they encourage love and service to God is applicable to everyday life, even for the laity. The Rule is full of other provocative ideas, one of these being the interconnectedness of every part of a person’s life. Prayer (chapters 8-20), work (chapter 48), eating (chapters 39-41), walking (chapter 7), and talking (chapters 6, 7, and 42) can each influence each other and help or hinder a person on their path to Heaven (which is why they each have chapters about them in The Rule). The chapter on humility[3] probably shows this interconnectedness the best, tying together the soul, the senses, the will, the body, community, etc. in pursuit of God.

I have experienced this interconnectedness first hand throughout the Rome Program. While much of the modern world compartmentalizes everything (work happens at work, family is at the house, and religion stays at church) and keeps everything from mixing or relating with each other, the Benedictine Tradition and the Rome Program promote the exact opposite; prayer should influence actions, study should influence community, community should influence prayer, etc. This is exactly what has happened during my time in Rome. Topics and discussions in class become conversations for my friends and I. Conversations with friends often turn into conversations with the chaplains. Conversations with the chaplains often turn into questions or ideas to pray about. Questions or ideas prayed about (ideally) turn into actions. It is all connected, and each reading, discussion, experience, etc. leads to something else, usually (and probably happily for St. Benedict) culminating in prayer or new growth in love and service of God.

---

    [1] St. Benedict, The Rule of St. Benedict, translated by Timothy Fry, O.S.B. (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1982.), 75.

    [2] Ibid., 18-19.

    [3] St. Benedict, 32-38.

St. Benedict: The Man, the Monk, the Saint

I figured that--seeing as two of my trips were to Benedictine monasteries, and my school is a Benedictine university--it might be useful to present a brief biography of St. Benedict for those who do not know much about him. Most of the information I have is from St. Gregory's The Life of St. Benedict.

Benedict was born in 480 AD in Nursia, Italy. He had a twin sister named St. Scholastica. In his teen years, he went to study in Rome. He was disgusted by the lifestyles of those in the city and did not see a need to study pagan writers of old (not as old as they are now obviously). When he could take it no more, he fled the city to become a hermit in a cave near Subiaco.

As a hermit, he had a mentor monk who made sure that he had a place of seclusion for prayer, as well as food. However, he became famous for his holiness, working several miracles and overcoming lust by jumping into, and rolling around in, a bunch of thorns. Eventually, he was asked by a community of monks to become their abbot. However, these monks were used to being very relaxed in their disciplines, and St. Benedict would have none of it. The monks grew to dislike him, going so far as to try to poison him. They slipped poison into his wine, but the cup shattered when Benedict blessed it. Benedict then left these unfaithful monks, returning to his cave at Subiaco.

Benedict's reputation only continued to grow, and he eventually attracted people to himself. Benedict and his followers then formed the first Benedictine monastery at Subiaco. However, a priest who lived in the area and was jealous of Benedict tried to poison him (which failed), and then tried to seduce his monks with prostitutes (which also failed). Benedict decided it would be best for him to leave, so he headed to Monte Casino and founded a new monastery. At this time, he founded a total of twelve monasteries, and his reputation for holiness and miracles continued to grow.

Benedict cast out demons, raised people from the dead, read souls, converted barbarians, and was an all around saintly man. He is most famous for the rule of life he wrote for his monks (aptly titled The Rule of St. Benedict). His monks would go on to preserve much of Western thought through the Middle Ages (ironic considering Benedict's view of Western thought), so we have the Benedictines to thank for the preservation of Greek and Roman writings. Benedict died in 543 AD, but his influence and legacy have lived on even to the modern day.

If you want to learn more about St. Benedict, I would highly recommend reading St. Gregory's book about him (it is not that long).

St. Benedict, Pray for us.

Beauty and Sacrifice

This is a short essay I wrote for one of my classes in Rome. We were asked to write about something that moved us to contemplation of the Good, the True, and the Beautiful.

       

In a place as ancient and grand as Rome there are countless beautiful and awesome sights to see, any of which could lead to considerations of the good and the true. The hugeness of the Colosseum, the marvel of the Pantheon, and the wonder of St. Peter’s Basilica are all inspiring sights in Rome. However, perhaps one of the most beautiful sights in Italy is in Nettuno. In this small, coastal town south of Rome is the cemetery and memorial for thousands of American soldiers who died in Italy during World War II. The area itself is beautiful, but the thousands of white crosses make it a sad beauty; in the face of such a site one cannot help but move to contemplation of things beyond lunch, sleep, and homework.

            

While visiting the cemetery, I began to wonder at what those white crosses stood for. Each one of those crosses was standing above a man of about my age. Each one of those men had decided that the war against Nazism was worth the possibility of losing their life and all the joys that come with it. And each of those men followed that belief to the end and gave their lives. It made me wonder what I would be willing to lay down my life for. Naturally, my thoughts jumped to my faith, but things are often easier said than done; in the moment when I am asked to die for my faith, would I really stand by Christ and not falter. So often, I cannot stand by Christ when much smaller things than my life are on the line. How can I say that I would die for Christ when I will choose just about anything over going to the chapel to be with Him? To paraphrase St. Paul, so often I do not do the good that I want to do, but the evil that I do not want to do. Can I really say that I am strong enough to give my life for my faith?

            

St. Benedict has an answer to this in the preface of his Rule where he is encouraging those that would join one of his monasteries: “What is not possible to us by nature, let us ask the Lord to supply by the help of his grace.”[1] By myself, I would certainly not be able to sacrifice my life for the faith. It is not a natural thing for a person to willingly give up their life; people do not give easily to begin with, so giving everything they have is not going to be an easy or natural thing for someone to do. However, with God’s grace, those things that are not natural or easy can happen.

As if to prove this, Nettuno holds another, even more beautiful, sight. In the town’s basilica lays the body of St. Maria Goretti. Her body is clothed with wax coverings where the skin would have been, allowing her body to be visible under the altar of the church. If she was stood up, she would probably not have been taller than my elbow. Yet this twelve-year-old girl sacrificed her life to preserve her purity. As if dying for the faith was not enough, while being stabbed Maria was trying to reason with her murderer and convince him to think of his soul. She then used her dying breaths to forgive her murderer. St. Maria Goretti’s life and death serve as proof that God gives grace to those who ask for it, and it shows what beauty can be accomplished by His grace.

One of the incredible things about beauty is its ability to draw people into the contemplation of the good and the true. The beauty of a cemetery and the tomb of a saint led me to the contemplation of sacrifice and God’s grace, things that I would not likely have thought of without the prompting of the beauty of the sights.

---

    [1] St. Benedict, “The Rule of St. Benedict,” Ed. Timothy Fry, O.S.B., (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1982), 18.

I Apologize...Again

Well I have managed to fail at this blogging thing. I apologize for all those who were hoping to follow my trip on this blog. It has been very busy here and, in the process of trying to take everything in, I have failed out putting anything out. However, I have a plan (plan C or D at this point) to get things out to people who are still interested and who will not be able to see me right away.

I return from Rome this Sunday and should be home Monday at the latest. I will have about a week off before I begin working. During that week I will write a bunch of posts and release them over the coming days and weeks to give a full(ish) picture of my trip. Topics will include:

-Art Week III (Paris Edition)
-Poland
-Ukraine
-Chernobyl
-Greece
-Venice
-Station Churches
-Community Life
-And more

We will see if anything else gets posted before next week. Thanks in advance for your forgiveness. If there are specific questions or topics you want addressed, leave a comment on this post; I will see what I can do.

God Bless

Art Week II

Well, so much for my good intentions. I must apologize again for the long delay in writing, especially after promising more in the coming days after my last post. Although, perhaps you should thank me. I am giving whomever cares a God-like experience; how often do we apologize for our sinfulness and promise God that we will do better, only to fall again and again? I will ask you all to be Christ to me and forgive me each time I fail to deliver; perhaps one of these times I will deliver.

With that aside, I would like to talk about Art Week II. The focus of these four days was on the Renaissance and Baroque styles. The art of these periods is incredible. The details and realism achieved by the sculptors and painters is unbelievable, and the architects built some absolute marvels.

The interesting thing to me about the art of these periods is the transition from flat, unrealistic art in the Middle Ages (still beautiful and masterful in its own way) to the highly detailed and realistic art in the Renaissance and Baroque periods. Here is an example of the transition, first in paintings, then in sculpture:

Madonna and Child, Berlinghiero, 13th century

Kiss of Judas, Giotto, 14th century

Painting by Fra Angelico, 15th century

The School of Athens, Raphael, 16th century

Medieval Pieta

Pieta, Michelangelo, Renaissance

The Ecstasy of St. Teresa, Bernini, Baroque Period

Michelangelo is another incredibly interesting part of this period. He was incredibly talented, complicated, and worked in a huge diversity of fields. While most sculptors made small models of their sculptures, working up in size before going to the final product in marble, Michelangelo would take the block and start working right away, producing masterpieces without a model to work from. David, Pieta, and Moses are just some of his famous sculptures. Michelangelo painted the famous ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, but he did not want to do it. He had originally come to Rome to build the epic tomb of Pope Julius II, but was switched to the Sistine Chapel when the Pope decided against building the tomb. Michelangelo did not want to paint, so he went home to Florence, but the Pope convinced him to return and work. Michelangelo had a large group of help at first (it was a huge task), but he ended up kicking everyone else out and locking himself up in the Chapel to work. Incredibly, he painted the entire ceiling, by himself, in four years. That means he came up with the design, drew it out, put up scaffolding for one section of painting, prepared the ceiling, painted the ceiling, and moved the scaffolding to another part of the Chapel. It was only at that point that he was able to see what his work looked like in full. The paintings were done by candlelight (there were no windows above his scaffolding) and much of it was done with him lying on his back. All of this in four years. He would later paint one wall of the Sistine Chapel with the famous Last Judgement. To top it all off, Michelangelo was one of the last architects for St. Peter's Basilica. This job he took as an old man. He did it for free on the condition that nobody would tell him what to do. Overall, he was an impressive, fascinating, and confusing man, and incredibly interesting to learn about.

The visits were mostly to museums, churches, and villas where there are collections of art (the buildings themselves often being a work of art). I will close with a list a few of my favorite churches, as well as some of my favorite artists in case anyone is interested in getting a taste of what I saw.

Churches:

St. Peter's Basilica (Renaissance/Baroque)

The Gesu (Baroque)

The Church of Saint Ignatius of Loyola (Baroque)

Painters:

Fra Angelico (Early Renaissance painter and Beatified Dominican Friar)

The Virgin of the Annunciation

Raphael (High Renaissance painter and Ninja Turtle. I especially like his works in the Vatican Museums)

The Disputation of the Holy Sacrament

Madonna of the Meadow

Caravaggio (Baroque painter with a very interesting and intimate painting style)

St. Jerome

The Crucifixion of St. Peter

Sculptors:

Michelangelo (High Renaissance sculptor, painter, and architect)

David

Bernini (Baroque sculptor and architect. Check out Apollo and Daphne, David, Apollo and Daphne, The Rape of Proserpina, and Ecstasy of Saint Theresa)

Detail of The Rape of Proserpina. The realism of the fingers on the thigh is incredible.

David

Ah, Bulgaria

Apologies for the obnoxiously long delay in writing. I posted my last blog, went to Bulgaria for a few days, had the second week of art week (which left little time for anything), and then just neglected to write for a week. Hopefully that will not happen again. I am going to cover one thing in this blog, and then a few more tomorrow and this weekend.

Bulgaria:

Ethan, Nick, and I decided to go to Bulgaria from February 1^st through the 4^th. Why Bulgaria? The inexpensiveness of the flight and lodging mainly. The whole trip cost around 150 dollars per person. Besides that, the city we would be in, Sofia, has a lot of interesting influences. Greek, Christian (mostly Orthodox), Muslim, and Soviet influences can be seen all over the city. We mostly cared about seeing the Christian churches and experiencing a very different culture from our own and even Italy (they use a different alphabet in Bulgaria, not just a different language).

We flew out of Rome early in the morning on February 1^st and were in Sofia a little before noon. We had not had breakfast, so our first mission was finding food to eat. We ended up at a burger joint called Boom!, chosen mainly due to the fact that it had a menu that was partly in English. The burgers were good and really cheap. The unit of currency in Bulgaria is the Lev (spelled how you would say it as I have no idea how to spell it), and the meal for all three of us cost between 50 and 60 Lev. That is the equivalent of about 30 or 35 dollars for three really big burgers and more fries than we could finish. It was awesome. After eating, we proceeded to walk around the city. We ended up in one of the many Orthodox churches in the city and it was beautiful. None of the churches we visited were like the Catholic churches that Americans would be used to seeing, and they were even quite different than the churches in Rome that we had seen. These churches were completely covered in icons of various saints. They were truly incredible. We happened to enter that church at around the time for vespers (evening prayer), so we decided to stay for it. The chanting was enchanting. We stayed for an hour (we had places to be so we left early), but the time certainly flew. We stood in place for the entire time, and I could have stayed much longer without any complaint. It was one of the highlights of the trip for me.

The next day was spent looking at more churches and going to a military history museum (just a park with a bunch of tanks and fighters). The day after that we had a Bulgarian guy drive us into the mountains in his van (aka, we paid for a tour) to visit an Orthodox monastery. It was an awesome place. We saw snow for the first time since leaving the States (aside from a random pile in Ravenna), and it was kind of nice. The church for the monastery was beautiful. The inside and outside were completely covered in icons. One thing that struck me was how the Orthodox Christians do not shy away from gruesome icons. Several of the icons depicted souls being tormented in Hell, while others showed martyrdoms (including blood, heads, etc.). Our tour guide had told us that there were bathrooms we could use at the monastery, but that they were uncomfortable. We had no idea what that meant (did they cover the seats in nails to mortify the flesh?), but we found out when Nick decided to use one. The toilets were actually just holes in the ground, so standing or squatting were the only options for use. We also decided to try the monastic donut things (more like funnel cakes than donuts) and they were very good. After the visit, we went back to our lodging, slept, and woke up at 4 am to catch a flight back to Rome (using Wiz Air as our airline), thus concluding our trip to Bulgaria.

Art Week

At the University of Mary we are blessed to have a president with so many connections. One of them is a French woman named Pascaline who studied and worked at the Louvre in Paris. She now teaches the Art of Rome and Paris for the UMary students studying in Rome. She is incredibly smart and clearly loves the class a lot. One of the most impressive things to me was Pascaline's ability to synthesize art, history, and theology, all while making it accessible and interesting to us. She says that her goal is to help us to really see the art; she wants us to know what a piece is, what the goal of it is, when it was made, what it was influenced by, etc. Remarkably, one week later, we were in the early stages of being able to do all these things.

A brief note about how the class works. Because she lives in Paris, Pascaline is not able to teach on a regular schedule. The solution to this is to have three weeks that are completely dedicated to the art class. Our first week of class was one of those weeks. It was absolutely crazy (we were usually doing class related stuff for 7-9 hours a day) and incredibly interesting. I thought going into it that it would be one of the most interesting classes I have taken because I know so little about art, and I was very right. I took more notes in one week for that class than I do in entire semesters for other classes, and every bit of it was fascinating.

The general structure for the class is to trace art historically from Antiquity (Greeks and Romans), to Early Christian/Byzantine, Medieval, Renaissance, Baroque, etc. Each unit receives about a day in the class and a day-and-a-half or two days in the city. In the city, Pascaline shows us ruins, museums, etc. and has us work individually or in groups to work out what an old building looked like or describe a fresco/mosaic/statue. This was incredibly difficult and awkward at first, but became somewhat more natural by the end of the week. Just this past weekend I was in Ravenna, Italy (home to some of the most amazing mosaics in the West), and myself and those I was travelling with were able to read the mosaics pretty well if I do say so myself. We were certainly better at it than we would have been without the class, and that was an awesome feeling.

Some of the sites we visited were the Colosseum, the Roman Forum (center of ancient Roman life), the Palatine Hill (where the palaces of the emperors were located), the Baths of Caracalla, the National Museum of Rome, the Church of Saint Clement, St. Peter's Basilica, and the Vatican Museums.

It was an incredible week and left me with some thoughts about modern art and architecture that I will try to convey soon.

God bless.

Sorry for the Delay

It has been a while since I have posted anything and I apologize for that. It has been a crazy couple of weeks (Art Week which meant nine hour class days, a trip to the town of Orvietto, first week of regular class, a Papal Audience, a weekend trip to Ravenna, and many things going on back home), so the blog has been on the back burner. I meant to begin catching up today, but a very interesting morning made that impossible.

My friend Ethan loves the Ukrainian Rite of the Catholic Church (in short, the Ukrainian Rite is made up of people from the Ukrainian Orthodox Church--a branch of the Russian Orthodox Church--who left the Orthodox Church and realigned themselves with the Pope while keeping their liturgy and most of their traditions). Ethan had gone to a Ukrainian Rite church last weekend and invited me and our friend Maggie (who was raised in the Ruthenian Rite--similar to the Ukrainian Rite) to go with him this weekend. The Divine Liturgy (what they call the Mass) was celebrated at 10am, so we were on the road at 7:45 to make sure we arrived on time. As we approached the church, we saw a lot of police officers our front. Upon asking what was going on, we were told that the Pope was visiting the church at 4pm. We had to go through security as a result, but we made it in just fine. However, the Liturgy had been moved to 11am, so we had a two hour wait. The wait was not silent however; psalms and prayers were chanted starting at 9:30 and took up most of the time until 11. The psalms were in Ukrainian, so we could not participate, but the woman chanting had a wonderful voice. During all this, the church was filling rapidly. The place was packed and there were many people with Ukrainian flags and cameras. When the Liturgy began, we learned what all the people were so excited for; the Major Archbishop of Kiev (the man in charge of the entirety of the Ukrainian Rite--under the Pope of course) was celebrating the Liturgy in preparation to meet with the Pope at the church in the afternoon. I could not see much of what happened during the Liturgy, but I could hear it and smell it which was beautiful. It went until a little after 1pm (and there are no chairs or pews, so we stood from about 7:45 when we left until close to 2 when we got on the bus to campus) and it was very good. All that being said, I had planned on being back earlier and getting homework and blogging done. Instead I had to focus on homework and skip the blog. However, I suppose that delaying the stuff I wanted to blog about for the opportunity to be an American Latin Rite Catholic celebrating the Divine Liturgy with the head of the Ukrainian Rite Church from Kiev is acceptable. 

Hopefully I will give more of an update on things tomorrow.

God Bless.

A Short Recap and a Plan

It has been a crazy eight days in Rome. We have been learning about Italian culture (language, habits, public transportation, etc.), life in community with a small group of people, expectations (both of us and what we can expect from the program), classes, food, and much more. In the first week I saw the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Pantheon, St. Peter's Basilica, a dozen other churches, and the tombs of about twenty Saints. I have learned how to get fresh bread and meat from a market and navigate the buses and trams (at least to a certain extent). I have tried a variety of wine (they charge you for water here, so wine is often about the same price) and pizzas, all of which were good. I have heard Mass in Italian (twice) and I have seen Pope Francis and prayed the Angelus with him (and a bunch of other people). I am sure there are other things, but it has been kind of a whirlwind of information and experiences, so I cannot think of all of them.

From now on I will be doing less of a chronology and summary of everyday events. I cannot imagine that everything in my day is interesting to read about, particularly because there are many parts that are boring for me to write about. Instead, I am going to focus on telling individual stories about experiences I have, subjects we cover in class, or musings about topics that come to mind over the course of the semester.

For my first musing (perhaps more of a brief rant), I will just say that I despise taking pictures (from either end of the camera), and I see little use for them. They cannot do their subject justice, and they usually leave viewers wanting to see the thing for themselves, rather than content with the image. Also (from a more selfish point-of-view), it forces me to stop taking in the present moment, which I believe is far more important and good than a picture. However, out of obedience to my parents and the chance that some unforeseen good may one day come of them (kind of like how Gandalf says that it might be a good thing for Gollum to be left alive, even though there is no foreseeable good that can come of it), I will take and post some pictures. If you want more pictures, go to nicholaswaddell.com. With all that being said, here is a picture of St. Peter's Basilica.

Good night, and God bless.

Roving Through Ireland (Days 4, 5, and 6)

On Day Four of the Ireland adventure, we went to Inis Oirr (inish ear), one of the Aran Islands off the coast of Ireland. We had to take a ferry out to the island (about an hour-long journey), and we were captained by Captain Robert, who will be discussed more later. Inis Oirr is a small island, about three kilometers by three kilometers, so it was easy for us to walk around. It is an incredibly interesting and beautiful island, giving a strong Lord of the Rings or The Last Jedi vibe. The island had many houses and several small businesses near the dock, but it appeared to be sparsely populated; we saw about four men and one woman that were not tourists during our entire time on the island. Another interesting bit of information is that, unlike the rest of Ireland, Gaelic is still the primary language of the people of Inis Oirr. While walking around the island, we saw two ruined towers and an old (no longer used) church that was over a thousand years old. We walked from one end of the island to the other, and there we hung around by the ocean for a while. The ocean is a truly magnificent and humbling thing. It is incredibly vast and powerful, and it was awesome to look out across it and see the Cliffs of Moher to the left and blue as far as the eye could see to the right. From the ocean we walked to a wrecked ship and then back to the dock. We had a little bit of time before it was time for the ferry to leave, but it was not enough time to go to any of the other sites, so we sat down near the dock and talked. A short while later, we saw Captain Robert approaching us. He said that he was waiting for the time to board the ferry as well (he said that he is too old to get on the boat without the gangplank). We (meaning mostly me) talked to Captain Robert for about an hour. He looks like the most stereotypical sea captain you could imagine: short, a little round, missing teeth, and a big grizzly beard with just the chin shaved. He told us that the first time he had sailed was around 61 years ago. He had served in the UK's version of the Merchant Marines, and then had worked on ferries for the past 30 years with a brief break for international sailing again in the mid-90's. He also knew a lot about poetry, reciting a lot of it for us, singing us a song, and talking about some of the stuff that he had written. Eventually, we made our way back to Galway. We decided to go get food and began looking for a good, reasonably priced restaurant. However, an online menu that was different from the real menu led us to a very expensive, fancy restaurant. We ended up getting appetizers and calling it good. The food was awesome, but not really filling. We then decided to buy some beer at a store to save a little money. I purchased a Beamish (good, but not as good as Guinness) and then we all split a small bottle of Jameson (also very good). We took this stuff back to our room and hung around and talked and drank for a few hours and went to sleep, ending probably my favorite day of the trip.

On the last full day in Ireland, we attended Mass at Galway Cathedral in the morning. It was a lightly attended Mass, mostly of elderly Irish men and women. Breakfast followed Mass, and then a journey back to Dublin via a bus. After arriving and getting settled into our Airbnb, we headed back into the city to see some of the bones of St. Valentine. While winding through a bunch of narrow streets to find the Whitefriar Street Church, we happened upon a large music store. Upon entering the store, my eyes were met by one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen; it was the biggest music store I had ever seen, filled with hundreds of instruments (many of which I had never seen in a store before), and all were available for me to play. I played a Gibson Explorer electric guitar, an upright bass (which sounded excellent but was slightly out of my price range at 6500 euros), a violin bass guitar, a mandolin, and a harp. The upright bass and harp were a lot of fun to try and figure out, and I could have spent a lot of time playing them if there were not other places to go. Nick and I each ended up buying cheap tin whistles (a traditional Irish instrument that is similar to a recorder--listen to "Devil's Dance Floor" by Flogging Molly or the beginning of "Concerning Hobbits" to hear it) for five euros. After some more walking, we found the church we were looking for. It is a perfect example of a common occurrence in many European cities: on the outside it was very unassuming and easy to miss, but on the inside it was magnificent. I do not have pictures of the inside of the church, but it was much bigger than it looked from the outside, and the art and ornamentation of the church was incredible. Besides the beauty of the church, there were also the bones of St. Valentine that we came there to see. However, it was not just St. Valentine that was represented there. Pope St. Pius X, St. Albert of Sicily, and St. Jude all had relics at this church as well. Judging from its location and how it looked on the outside, I would never have thought to go in it. Food was next on the list, followed by a fairly early return to our room and beds; we had to be up at three for our flight to Rome.

At three in the morning we arose and silently prepared to depart. When we met our taxi driver who was to bring us to the airport, we found out from him that we had been staying in one of the roughest parts of Dublin (we never would have guessed from the look of the town or the kind family we were staying with), and that we "could have gotten any drugs or hitmen that we wanted." We were all alive and undrugged, so we did not care, but we were curious if he was telling the truth. Checking in, security, and getting to our gate at the airport all went smoothly. However, we were delayed forty-five minutes by a late flight with passengers that needed to be on the plane to Rome. Normally this would not have been a big deal, however, we were supposed to meet all the other Rome students at the airport and bus over to the campus; the forty-five minute delay was going to make that incredibly difficult to be on time for. We were all a little nervous, but things went smoothly and we found Dr. Lombardo (the head of the UMary Rome Program in Rome) waiting for us at the airport. We then found out that the group flight that had most of the students had been delayed through some ridiculous weather and other events at JFK airport in New York. This led to the three of us having lunch with Dr. Lombardo while we waited for the rest of the group. It was a very enjoyable meal, and it was good to get to know Dr. Lombardo a little bit. With the arrival of the rest of the group about an hour later, we departed for campus. Once there, we moved into rooms, filled out paperwork, received a tour of the campus, and went out to eat at a pizza place. After a Divine Mercy Chaplet, we went to bed.

While the trip to Ireland was a blast, and I would highly recommend a visit to that beautiful country, it was good to see friends, and it was reassuring to be on the campus and know that the real adventure could finally begin.

Roving Through Ireland (Days 2 and 3)

Day Two of the Ireland trip began in Belfast and ended in Omagh. We started the day by packing up and leaving the house we were staying at and walking to the bus station in Belfast. We traveled to Downpatrick--a short bus ride away--and visited Down Cathedral, the sight of the Tomb of St. Patrick, St. Columba, and St. Brigid. After asking for the intercession of these Saints, we walked a couple of miles to Inch Abbey. This was one of my favorite stops of the trip. Inch Abbey was a Medieval Cistercian monastery built in the 12th century. It is in a beautiful spot, right on the River Quoile. We walked around the ruins and marveled at what the monks were able to build. We then had a pipe inside what used to be the nave of the church. It was a very peaceful and enjoyable smoke. On the walk back to Downpatrick, a light rain began to fall, which we all thoroughly enjoyed. We ate at a little sandwich shop in town. The ladies working there were very friendly. They remarked that the weather was really terrible. We said that it beat the weather we had back in the States. They then told us that some of the states (including North Dakota), had been in the news because of their temperatures. After we had our food, they pulled out the one table they had so that we would not have to wait for the bus in the rain (this was after they looked up the time it left for us), and then they gave us some of their freshly made soup for free. When the time for us to leave had arrived, we thanked the workers profusely, and departed for Belfast. We went straight from Belfast to Omagh.

Upon arrival in Omagh, the people we were staying with picked us up at the bus station, saving us the walk or taxi. We then found out that there had been a miscommunication somewhere along the line and our hosts had only been expecting two people, not three. Without batting an eye, they set up another bed in our room and then offered to take us back into Omagh in an hour, saving us a walk or taxi again. Once in the town, we ate at Sallys. I had a delicious burger, some garlic potatoes, and a pint of Guinness (still my favorite beer from what I have tried). Following food, we went to a High Kings concert; it was phenomenal. For those of you who are not familiar with this band (probably most people), they are an Irish folk band. The four guys who make up the band are ridiculously talented singers, and they each play multiple instruments. The show was incredibly fun, with a good mix of upbeat, raucous folk music and slow, beautiful ballads. One of the highlights was when they opened the song "Finnegan's Wake" with the intro to "Thunderstruck" played on accordion (here is a link to a version of it if you want--https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGIwzGcu3-Q). With the end of "Parting Glass," the concert ended. We took a taxi back to the house and talked and went to sleep. The following morning we were fed by our host. We had a delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausage, and toast. They then called a taxi for us and we went to the bus station. Before leaving, we thanked our host profusely for her kindness and helpfulness. If you ever end up in Omagh, Northern Ireland, I would highly recommend staying at Arvalee Retreat House. From the bus station, we departed for Dublin where we could get a bus to Galway.

Day Three of our trip was uneventful. We rode buses for most of the day, arriving in Galway in the evening. We walked to our hotel and checked in. We then walked back into town to eat (I had sausage, potatoes, and soup), and we went to a bar (I had a pint of Guinness again). We then walked back to the hotel and hung around until we fell asleep.

A two general notes about Ireland. First, the country is exceedingly beautiful. People do not exaggerate when they describe it. It is incredibly green. The look of the rivers running through the countryside, the ruins of monasteries and occasional castles, and the old towns remind me strongly of how I picture the Northern areas of Middle Earth. Being a history major, having the ruins pop up randomly on the landscape is awesome.

Second, based on our interactions with several people, as well as what we saw on newspapers and TVs, people in Ireland pay attention to American politics. It was really interesting and kind of eye-opening to see how much people pay attention to America.

Well, that's all I have to say about that.

(Here is a link to Nick's blog: https://www.nicholaswaddell.com)

So It Begins

30+ hours, 3,657 miles flying, 100+ miles of buses, and 17 miles of walking since I woke up on the 2nd of January and prepared to fly to Dublin, I am now preparing to sleep. For those who do not know, myself and two of my friends, Ethan and Nick, decided to take a few days to visit Ireland before beginning our semester of study in Rome. On our first day, we arrived in Dublin a little before 5 in the morning Dublin time. At a little after 6, we exited the airport and started walking. Our first place to visit was the Round Tower in Swords, a little town outside of Dublin. The Round Tower was a part of an old Irish monastery built by St. Columba in the 6th century. One interesting aspect of it is that the original door is built much higher than any person could reach without stairs or a ladder. This enabled people to retreat to the tower and then cut off access to it in case of an attack. Unfortunately it was still very dark when we arrived at the tower, but it was still a marvel to look at when I considered the technology that the monks would have had to build the tower.

After visiting the Round Tower, we walked to Malahide, a town a few miles away from Swords, where there is a castle. The castle was very impressive. It was a new experience for me to be walking through a bunch of trees and having a castle appear around a corner. The chapel next to the castle was interesting as well. There was a restaurant on the grounds of the castle, so we ate breakfast there around 9:30. At this point, we decided to catch a bus back to Dublin. We learned that exact change was required for riding the bus--3.3 euros as we were informed by one of the ladies working at the castle. However, it was quite a search before we were able to get everyone that change; apparently it is not common for a business to have much change in its till. Eventually, we had the money we needed to ride the bus and made it back to Dublin.

Once back in Dublin, we decided to make our way to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells. The Book of Kells is an illuminated manuscript of the Gospels. It was written and illuminated by Irish monks in the 9th century. It is remarkably beautiful and ridiculously detailed. It was said that the monks would use crystals to magnify the work, and that they used brushes of a single horse hair. All the paints were made using berries, leaves, rocks, etc. It is an incredible feat of patience, dedication, and art. It is definitely worth Googling and taking a look at some of the pages.

Following the Book of Kells, we decided to figure out how to get to the house we were going to stay at (and are currently in) in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Getting the tickets was very easy, but finding the bus stop proved difficult. After a lot of walking and asking around, we found the stop and were soon on the bus and leaving Dublin at 3:30 pm. We were all trying to stay awake so that we could adjust to the new time zone, but we all took naps on the bus. We arrived in Belfast a little after five and set to work figuring out what we had to do for buses tomorrow. After that, we ate supper at the Crown Liquor Saloon. I ate an Irish Stew that was very good, and (because I know my father will be curious) I drank a Brewdog, Jackhammer, an IPA made with "spicy, citrusy, and peppery hops," that was also good.

After our supper, we walked about two miles to our lodging and have been relaxing and getting ready to sleep ever since. An early day tomorrow will hopefully have us on our way to see the tomb of St. Patrick in the morning and a High Kings concert in the evening.

Good night and joy be to you all.

(P.S. I left my camera in my stored bag, so I will not have any pictures from Ireland. I will put a link to my friend Nick's blog in my next entry for those who want to see pictures.)