The Frantic Football Match- An Experience with a Capital “E”

Thanks to Kyle, during our stay in London last week I went to my first ever professional soccer game! Oops, I mean “football match.” The original plan was to see Phantom of the Opera that night, but then he “accidentally bought the Chelsea vs. Shakhtar tickets before he checked the date of them.” (I suspect it was more than happy coincidence that this football match replaced a night of musical theater at its peak. But I digress.)

So now my options for that night were either go to the match with Kyle, or see Les Miserables with Annie and Stephanie. Being a good girlfriend, and an interested cultural observer, I decided to go see the game. I knew it was an exciting opportunity, especially because of how much Kyle loves the English Premier League. He has talked about wanting to go to a football match since before he got to London, so I was truly happy to go with him to watch it. 

The night of the match we caught the tube to the stadium. We were surrounded by all kinds of people wearing blue Chelsea jerseys, scarves, hats, etc. I was a little nervous because most of the stories I’ve heard about football matches are about the fights that occur between the opposing fans afterwards. Well, when we emerged from the tube station and there were policemen EVERYWHERE, many of them on horses, my anxiety did not improve. I mentioned something about this to Kyle and he said “Oh, it’s much safer because they have so many policemen.” Well at least one of us was confident. Also the streets were completely blocked off with barricades. And there are separate entrances for the fans of either team. We finally made it around the stadium to our entrance, and after four rows of security guards giving pat downs and doing bag checks, we made it inside.

Our tickets were in the Shakhtar section. For each match there are a certain number of tickets are allotted to the visiting side. Shakhtar is a professional team from Ukraine, and as not a lot of Ukrainian fans are present in London, these were the tickets Kyle could get. I had kind-of decided to root for Chelsea even though we weren’t sitting with those fans because I didn’t know anything about the Shakhtar team and David Beckham (my favorite player) is from England so that’s close enough! 

Once I saw the fans from Ukraine I changed my mind. 95% of them were men, many bald, average age 45, missing a few teeth, the size of wrestlers, and wearing leather jackets. If this is starting to sound like the Ukrainian mafia or something you are getting the right idea. Heck yes I was rooting for Shakhtar!

I sat pretty much on the edge of my seat clutching my purse the entire time, except for when I stood up to loudly join in the “Shakhtar, Shakhtar!” or “OO-KRA-EE-NAY” (Ukrainian for “Ukraine” apparently) cheers. I really wanted to make sure these guys knew I was rooting for their team. For much of the first half, thoughts like “Oh, it’s 7:30, Les Mis has just started” and “I have only counted 9 women in this whole section” and “Shoot, David Beckham isn’t even on this team” were passing through my head. I didn’t dare voice any of these things because Kyle was really in his element and soaking up every moment of the match, (yes I will accept the award for Girlfriend of the Year now.)

However, when I relaxed a little bit after the half time break, I did enjoy watching the game. It was exciting, and ended up tying 2-2 so we got to see lots of goals. Even though the region our seats were located in was a bit dicey, the seats themselves were awesome and we had a great view! All in all, I’m really glad I went to the match, so a big thank you to Kyle. And now that I’ve been to one, I know it was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Literally.

Not in Britain

Fun fact about French culture: Duck liver is a Christmas dinner favorite.  

Another fun fact: omelets and french fries are served together.

In the words of my father, "It always rains when I'm in Paris"

The Brooks Family!

Madeline poses with Venus de Milo.  

The beautiful French house we're staying in!

Our hosts (family friends of the Brooks) show us around Paris the first night!

In a store window: penguins with purses.  hmmm.

Madeline's 21st Birthday

 November 1 marked Madeline's 21st birthday! We celebrated at a Mexican restaurant in Belfast City.

 The Belle of Belfast City enjoying a birthday margarita!

 Back in our cottage, we surprised her with balloons, candles, and peanut butter chocolate chip cheesecake bars

'The Mud Run' or 'The Manure Trudge'

I have loved our three weeks in Northern Ireland. I really have. However, this week contained a critical moment (more accurately, a critical two hours). It’s funny in retrospect, but ‘fun’ would not have been an adjective used in the moment.

One of the highly touted events of our stay here was advertised as a Mud Run. The friendly older Irish gentleman who owns the cottages held a 'Mud Run' a couple weeks before we came. It sounded so like so much fun that he offered to organize one just for our group--a unique Halloween activity. I like running. I don’t mind getting dirty. I enjoy social fun runs. Madeline and I even ran a half marathon last February, and have run together during our time here. I looked forward to the Mud Run with great anticipation, envisioning some obstacles, mud, and best of all, a warm shower afterwards. Little did I know what was in store. 

Stephanie, Annie, and I suited up in our most expendable clothes, in case they were irrevocably ruined by the mud. Predictably, Madeline (in retrospect, wisely) chose not to participate, instead taking on the role of cheerleader. To begin, our Irish leader gave us an introductory talk stating that this was a teambuilding time—we would stay together throughout the whole run. It may just be that I grew up in a competitive family, but the statement ‘we’re not doing this to win,’ doesn’t bode well. When your dad is a former college football coach, competition runs in your blood. It’s difficult to dissociate a run from motives of winning.

We started out with the entire group jogging together across a field normally inhabited by sheep. The opening of the jog included crossing a stream—2 feet deep. Wet soggy feet, socks, and shoes spell a bad beginning. Keep in mind that it’s a mere 45 degrees outside. We proceeded to scramble up muddy hills, where I unknowingly placed my hands on stinging nettles. Things were looking grim. They got worse when our leader then encouraged us to hurl mud at each other. I have difficulty combining in my mind the concepts of teambuilding and hurling mud. Even more, I’m trying to live and travel with grace and patience with the same 24 students for 16 weeks. It’s challenging to be patient when someone is hurling mud at your face. That challenge grows exponentially when you discover that what the Irish call ‘mud’ is actually what we refer to as ‘manure’.

Every time we completed some sort of obstacle, such as wading through a bog pit where mud came up to our waists, we would go one by one, and wait for everyone else to come through. This lengthened the process a good deal. Things took a turn for the worse when we ran up to a small hut with a sign reading ‘Maggot Farm.’ I assumed that since we could opt in or out of the Mud Run, we obviously would be able to opt out of sections like this. I could simply walk by the Maggot Farm, rather than crawling underneath it into the black pit of insects. I don’t mind getting dirty, but I don’t relish the idea of maggots inside my clothes. I walked past with a couple girls, while we watched each person disappear into the darkness underneath and reemerge a couple seconds later on the other side, with questioning expressions on their faces. Somehow, our leader knew I hadn’t gone, and required me to cross through the proverbial abyss before the group could continue. I wanted to be anywhere else. Maggots? There’s a reason I will never be on Fear Factor. I closed my eyes, and crawled through as quickly as I could, hating every moment and swearing never to sign up for a ‘fun run’ again, unless I knew what EVERY single obstacle entailed.

What was billed as a 'fun run' turned out to be a 2 hour ordeal of misery. We waded through some more rivers, crossed bog pits, and climbed nets, all the while having mud hurled at my face. I faced a dilemma with the mud hurling. If I were to hurl mud back, it would encourage this behavior. If I were to actually get serious and take them down, it would bring an end to the manure hurling (my objective) but obviously would be too intense for the situation—yet another moment when my competitive instincts were thrown into confusion. In the end, I opted to simply ignore it, in an attempt to remain on the fringes of the conflict.

I tried to be a good sport but every atom of my being longed to be done as soon as possible. This is difficult when the group waits at every single stop for every person to make it through. Being freezing cold, soaking wet, and coated in mud added to my anxiety for what I now thought of as the ‘Manure Trudge’ to be over. Visions of the lasagna soup, pretzel rolls, and hot tea (my dinner plan) filled my mind. Finally, we were lined up single file behind a mud pit covered with a net. We had to crawl one by one under the net through the mud to the other side. No one in their right mind would purposefully go under this net. It looked like a nightmare realized in reality—I could picture my long braid getting tangled in the net (a la Absalom), not being able to escape, my face in the manure, etc. etc. My gameplan was simply to get it over with as soon as I could. I entered under the net and quickly realized that it was not simply a mud pit—my knees were on rocks! After two major knee surgeries, I am very protective of my knees—and I had not anticipated this. The next thing I knew, someone from above was shoving me into the mud, and my knees were grinding into the rocks. Luckily, this painful experience was the close of the mud run. I nearly cried from relief (and pain) when I emerged from the net and was informed that we were finally done. To add insult to injury, we have a particular assignment for one of our classes in which we are to write a ‘Critical Experience’ Essay—about a critical moment. However, I’ve already written that essay about a grumpy employee at a Post Office in Stratford-upon-Avon, so my painful experience wouldn’t even be applicable to any of my remaining essay assignments!

getting shoved into the mud

Four days later, the manure smell is gone. We’ve washed our clothes, shoes, and hair. The only traces remaining of the Mud Run are the deep purple and light blue hues that shade my knees. In the spectrum of bad experiences while abroad, this really wasn’t that bad. Our cottage that night featured lasagna soup, blankets, mulled cider, and the four Babes: a recipe which can heal a multitude of hurts.

Tonight is the last night in our little pink cottage. Tomorrow we fly back to London. Highlights of the coming week include: The Lumineers and The Civil Wars in concert (which we are attending with the illustrious Kyle Phipps), The British Museum, and Twelfth Night at The Globe. Stephanie's parents are joining us, and we board the Chunnel to Paris on Friday! 

--Morgan

Cottages, Castles, and Cliffs (Illustrated)

(don't forget to scroll down to Maddie's last post to see a video of Morgan playing fiddle with an Irish band and read about our time with Benedictine Monks!)

A recap of the last two weeks in Ireland in pictures.....

Our cabin!

Morgan makes us amazing meals!

Northern Ireland hike/roll in the grass

Monastic Adventures:

Seaside!

(typical Grace-Morgan interaction....)

this picture had to be retaken.... it was windy....

Greetings from Galway!

Hello friends, family, devoted fans and followers!

We are in Galway for the weekend, on the Western side of Ireland. As far as we can tell it’s purely a “there are beautiful things here to see” kind of trip. Here’s a picture of Galway Bay, which we can see from our hotel room windows!

No actual official English classes have happened. But we did take a day trip to Innish Moor, the largest of the three Aran islands yesterday! Population 800 people. Home to lots of cattle, gorgeous views, ancient monastic ruins (this seems to be a theme of our time in Ireland), and wool sweater makers. A couple of us indulged in that last one! Here’s a view from the cliffs on the island overlooking the ocean:

Today we visit the Cliffs of Moher, (aka “The Cliffs of Insanity” from The Princess Bride!). It’s supposed to be rainy and freezing but we are going to rough it because this is not something that can be missed!

Our main location for the last two weeks, and the next week after we leave Galway tomorrow, Rostrevor, has been wonderful! We are staying in our own little cottage. It’s pink. We have three bedrooms, and a washing machine, and a kitchen, living room, fireplace, etc. A large part of the enjoyment of this living space is due to Morgan, who has faithfully planned out our meals each week-- breakfast, lunch, and dinner too, and even sometimes dessert! And these are not just any meals. Homemade pizza with goat cheese and apples, Asian stir fry, pumpkin pie, banana bread, omelets with bell peppers, the list goes on and on! We are happy in Rostrevor!! Here’s the view from our kitchen window, of the Mourne Mountains covered in morning fog:

Another awesome part of the Rostrevor stay is the neighboring Holy Cross Monastery. Morgan alluded to this a little bit in her last post when she talked about attending the cycle of 5 services there during our first week. The other great part of the monastery is Brother Thierry. He’s a monk from France that has a relationship with Westmont because of the various study abroad programs that visit and stay at the cottages. We had two lectures from him and even a tour of the monastery! All of the students are so encouraged by his wisdom and hospitality. The motto he always repeats is “You are Christ to me,” so that’s a very nice thing to hear all the time, especially from a man that has devoted his life to God in such an intense way. Here is the monastery website if you want to learn more about it and see some pictures:  

http://www.benedictinemonks.co.uk/

Finally, the highlight for last week was a “ceili” (pronounced like Kayley) night that Liam, the owner of the cottages had us all participate in. A ceili is a traditional Irish gathering where everyone comes together and performs a song, or recites a poem, tells a joke, etc. Everybody in the group is expected to share something. He had some of his friends, excellent Irish musicians, come and give us all a concert at the beginning, and then we all shared. There was a singer-songwriter named Colum Sands (check him out on iTunes!), a cellist, and another guy who played every instrument from the banjo to the bodhran (Irish drum). Morgan was of course a featured performer and she played the fiddle with the Irish musicians. Which was a real thrill for the other three of us who had the “Oh my gosh, our friend is so cool!” moment! Here's a quick video clip of her skillz!

I think that covers everything! If you don’t see a blog post for a while, don’t be too sad because of our sketchy internet in Rostrevor. Next week we will be back in London (woohoo!) and will have more regular updates from then on!

Northern Ireland

 Stephanie at Monasterboice, the oldest Irish monastery. It's home to the two tallest Celtic crosses.

 One of the 'round towers'. The Irish would all climb up in the tower (and roll up the rope door) to escape from the marauding Vikings!

The view from our living room of the Mourne Mountains. We are loving Ireland. Highlights so far: attending the 5 service cycle (in 1 day) at the nearby Holy Cross Monastery, cooking gourmet meals, intense card games (Madeline and I win), etc. Today we are in Dublin. We've seen Kilmainham, a jail built in 1798 and literally packed with Irish history, the Guinness factory, and an evensong service at St. Patrick's Cathedral, the national church of Ireland. A countertenor was featured! (especially funny when we glanced at their choir books...which were entitled 'Sing Low'. )

This weekend we're traveling to Galway to see some natural wonders on the West Coast of Ireland! More to come soon.