Now that I’ve purchased a raincoat… I can embrace Dublin and its rain!

 

As you can see in the photo above, I’m beginning to embrace the rain that has shown itself multiple times this journey (and I’m sure will continue to). And while this photo is a bit silly, I think it develops our answer to the question a bunch of us asked on the first day of class: when does a place become yours? While Dublin is not by any means my place, my becoming familiar with it (slowly buts surely) and not being surprised by its habits, I think, is bringing me closer to becoming one with this place.

Growing up in a tourist area, living near New York City and along the busy Jersey Shore, I became used to the presence of tourists in my places. Their influence is critical to these places, whether their effects are negative or positive. Tourism dictates the economy and infrastructure of a place. From what we’ve seen of Dublin, I’ve noticed the influence we–as tourists–have had on this place. Take the literary pub tour: the effort to preserve an authentic Ireland and memorialize Ireland’s most impressive names is, in part, for its people, but appears to mostly be constructed and maintained for tourists.

However, tourism may perpetuate the Dubliner’s idleness that was described in the texts we read this morning, begging the question: what is the effect of Dubliners having a major part of its economy dependent on its history being encapsulated? I’m hopeful to see examples of history being written for Dublin. What will tour guides be saying about Dublin 50 years from now about 2017 Dublin?

I wish I could remember which student said this, but I heard today that the Irish find it humorous how excited Americans get when they see sheep. Today, I was one of those Americas—(points for me for filling yet another American stereotype while abroad!).

Upon first walking into the Archeology Museum, I did not think I would enjoy it. The amazing aspects of the taxidermy animals made me uneasy. However, the more I interacted with the pieces, I began to appreciate the work done to preserve and showcase the beautiful creatures. Most of these animals we have encountered, whether that be through the internet, a zoo or the wild. Something is different when they are no longer living, however. For me, the preserved bodies provide a sense of the past, whether that be immediate or distant. These creatures existed at one point or another, and while most were not native to Dublin, their (as does all existences) left an impression upon the places they inhabited.
Afterwards, we found ourselves in an ornate, corky pub with neon chairs and rainbow wallpaper that somehow managed to not be overdone. While in the pub, interacting with the classmates that we are all still coming to know, I realized how we were establishing “places” within Dublin, even though we are foreigners. Immediately, we all took out our phones and cameras to take pictures in this abstract setting to preserve it in our memories—to make the place continuously tangible for us after we leave Dublin.

My “place”

The same week that I took this image, I moved into my new house. Since the house is nearly 40 years old, it has seen its fair share of changing conceptualizations of place. My awareness—through doing my readings for this class—of my own role in this process has been compelling, as my fiancé and I make small changes to the place somebody else called home less than a month ago. The walls are different colors and our furniture (that bares its own set of memories) is filling. Beyond these features, we have also begun brainstorming how we will approach further changing and customizing our place—renovating the kitchen, replacing the closet doors, refinishing the fireplace. Ultimately, I am taking what somebody else made meaningful and turning it into meaning for myself and my little family.

 

This all goes to say that taking an image of a place in my own environment is more complicated than I anticipated because my place is at a point of transition—its new to me and I am new to it. But, the rainy day that I read Ulysses while my cats slept on the chair besides me is part of that building of my place. Now, this place is where I moved in one weekend, and the following weekend I flew out to Europe for half a month (leaving my dear fiancé with all of the boxes to unpack). Furthermore, what I am doing right know—reading books for Ireland and writing this blog post—is one of the earliest memories established in this place.

(Here is a nice photo of my fur babies from a few minutes after. They were essential, in my opinion!)

#DubBelGSU #PreDepartureBlogPost

Reading in Place: GSU Campus

I learned quickly that GSU’s Writing Studio is a special place. Shortly after starting my first semester as a graduate student and tutor, I developed professional and personal relationships with people who are exceedingly dedicated to lifting their peers to their highest potential, whether that means sorting out complicated theories and brainstorming topics or being available for a coffee break. The value of having access to such an intelligent group of scholars, at any given moment, is unquantifiable, making the Writing Studio my favorite place to work. This work entails more than just reading and writing papers; it also includes developing my own teaching philosophy based on feedback from more experienced teachers, curating my perspective through discussion with outside perspectives and contemplating approaches to courses through comparing former student’s notes.

Ultimately, the Writing Studio’s aesthetic is nurtured by the people who occupy it. Reading, writing and studying develop from singular to communal exercises—something I never anticipated as a graduate student. It deviates from a library atmosphere, in the sense that there is laughter and chatter, but also nurtures an focused, determined mentality that is conducive for learning—(Not to mention the bonus of it being a space that aids other students in developing their skills as writers!)

 

#DubBelGSU #Summer2017