Montag, 22. Dezember 2008
Sabinas letzter Abend (16.12.2008)
12 Days of Christmas
Start Date: 12 December 2008
End Date: 23 December 2008
Venue: Dublin Docklands
Time: 12noon- 8pm daily
Price: Free
Kein Weihnachten ohne Weihnachtsmarkt! Aber hier in Irland ist das natürlich nicht so selbstverständlich wie bei uns ... hier gibt es nicht in jedem kleinen Örtchen einen Weihnachtsmarkt. Die muss man schon suchen. ;) Gott sei Dank war unsere Suche erfolgreich, denn in den Docklands von Dublin gibt es den "12 Days of Christmas"-Weihnachtsmarkt. Und die hatten doch tatsächlich echte deutsche Brezeln ("Pretzeln" geschrieben). Das haben wir uns natürlich nicht entgehen lassen. Als nächstes gings schnurstracks zum Glühweinstand (wieder von Deutschen betrieben), wo der Glühwein (die Tasse!!) allen Ernstes 5€ gekostet plus 5€ Pfand: "Drei Glühwein, bitte!" ... "Das macht 30€!" - Verrückt!! Aber Steffi, Anna und ich haben natürlich trotzdem noch einen getrunken.
UCD Sweater
Michelle's Abschied (13.12.2008)
Christin, Viola, Steffi und Regine
Samstag, 13. Dezember 2008
Exams done!
Juhuu, meine Prüfungen sind vorüber. Heute hatte ich mein letztes Exam und diesmal nicht in Blackrock, sondern auf dem RDS-Campus in Ballsbridge. Ging zu wie bei einem Casting ... Seat-Numbers wurden zugeteilt und von den Schlangen vor den Damentoiletten fangen wir gar nicht erst zu reden an ... Insgesamt gab es vier Hallen, in denen geschrieben wurde und in der, in der ich geschrieben habe, saßen schon über 800 Leute!
Als Belohnung wird heut wieder gefeiert ... Michelle gibt ihre Abschiedsparty. Ich bin gespannt ...
Freitag, 12. Dezember 2008
Poetry of W.B.Yeats
Weil ich nicht groß zum Schreiben komme, denn ich lerne ja noch für meine Prüfung morgen (Irish Literature in English), hier ein paar von den Gedichten, die dran kommen werden, alle von W.B.Yeats:
TO IRELAND IN THE COMING TIMES
by: William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
NOW, that I would accounted be
True brother of a company
That sang, to sweeten Ireland's wrong,
Ballad and story, rann and song;
Nor be I any less of them,
Because the red-rose-bordered hem
Of her, whose history began
Before God made the angelic clan,
Trails all about the written page.
When Time began to rant and rage
The measure of her flying feet
Made Ireland's heart begin to beat;
And Time bade all his candles flare
To light a measure here and there;
And may the thoughts of Ireland brood
Upon a measured quietude.
Nor may I less be counted one
With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson,
Because, to him who ponders well,
My rhymes more than their rhyming tell
Of things discovered in the deep,
Where only body's laid asleep.
For the elemental creatures go
About my table to and fro,
That hurry from unmeasured mind
To rant and rage in flood and wind;
Yet he who treads in measured ways
May surely barter gaze for gaze.
Man ever journeys on with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
Ah, faeries, dancing under the moon,
A Druid land, a Druid tune!
While still I may, I write for you
The love I lived, the dream I knew.
From our birthday, until we die,
Is but the winking of an eye;
And we, our singing and our love,
What measurer Time has lit above,
And all benighted things that go
About my table to and fro,
Are passing on to where may be,
In truth's consuming ecstasy,
No place for love and dream at all;
For God goes by with white footfall.
I cast my heart into my rhymes,
That you, in the dim coming times,
May know how my heart went with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
TO A SHADE
by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)
F you have revisited the town, thin Shade,
Whether to look upon your monument
(I wonder if the builder has been paid)
Or happier-thoughted when the day is spent
To drink of that salt breath out of the sea
When grey gulls flit about instead of men,
And the gaunt houses put on majesty:
Let these content you and be gone again;
For they are at their old tricks yet.
A man
Of your own passionate serving kind who had brought
In his full hands what, had they only known,
Had given their children's children loftier thought,
Sweeter emotion, working in their veins
Like gentle blood, has been driven from the place,
And insult heaped upon him for his pains,
And for his open-handedness, disgrace;
Your enemy, an old foul mouth, had set
The pack upon him.
Go, unquiet wanderer,
And gather the Glasnevin coverlet
About your head till the dust stops your ear,
The time for you to taste of that salt breath
And listen at the corners has not come;
You had enough of sorrow before death--
Away, away! You are safer in the tomb.
September 29, 1913
Easter 1916
I HAVE met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our winged horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road.
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone's in the midst of all.
Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Mittwoch, 10. Dezember 2008
TCD Christmas Party
Date: Wednesday 10th December
Time: FREE before 11pm; 5 euro after
Special Drinks promos available on the night
Music: Resident DJ Tony P
Montag, 8. Dezember 2008
Zimmer gefunden!!!
Karaoke (04.12.2008)
Sonntag, 7. Dezember 2008
Happy Nikolaus!
Mittwoch, 3. Dezember 2008
Burn After Reading
Samstag, 29. November 2008
Stefan's Geburtstag
Gestern haben wir dann aber auch noch erlebt, was Polizeistaatsatmosphäre ist. Vor ein paar Tagen kam ein Zettel ins Haus geflattert, dass demnächst Tore um Belgrove und alle anderen Residences gebaut werden und man nur noch mit Karte Zugang zum Gelände hat. Und gestern haben sie anscheinend schon mal die Probe aufs Exempel gemacht, denn ab 14 Uhr wurden alle "Ankömmlinge" nach Studenten-Karte und Apartment-Schlüssel gefragt und alle Besucher mit Namen auf einer Liste vermerkt!! Wie krass! Da kannst du keine Leute mehr mitbringen, weil die ja 23.00 Uhr das Gelände wieder verlassen haben müssen ... Vor allem für uns Erasmus-Studenten doof, weil unsere Besucher ja immer übers Wochenende bleiben ... Das haben wir dem Typen von der Rezeption dann auch noch verständlich gemacht, dass wir die ganze Aktion für Geldverschwendung halten und angeblich gibt es jetzt schon eine Petition gegen die Tore! Wenn die mich fragen, ich unterschreib gern, denn die eigentlich Verrückten leben IN Belgrove und kommen nicht von außerhalb. ;)
Donnerstag, 27. November 2008
Belgrove - Christmas Party
Giant's Causeway - Der Damm der Riesen
The Giant's Causeway lies at the foot of the basalt cliffs along the sea coast on the edge of the Antrim plateau in Northern Ireland. It is made up of some 40,000 massive black basalt columns sticking out of the sea. The dramatic sight has inspired legends of giants striding over the sea to Scotland. Geological studies of these formations over the last 300 years have greatly contributed to the development of the earth sciences, and show that this striking landscape was caused by volcanic activity during the Tertiary, some 50–60 million years ago. (Quelle: UNESCO)
Als wir am Giant’s Causeway ankamen, war das Wetter auch … ich sag’s mal so: atmosphaerisch. Sobald wir aus dem Bus raus waren, kam ein “Sturm” auf … Wind und Regen von der schoensten Sorte und wir entschieden uns dann, doch lieber den Bus bis runter zum eigentlichen Causeway zu nehmen. Das war natuerlich eine weise Entscheidung, denn es fing dann auch irgendwann noch mal an zu hageln. Aber es war echt eine atemberaubende Atmosphaere und die Basaltsaeulen sehen wirklich so aus, als haette sie jemand als Weg erbaut.