The night before I caught a plane to Dublin for the U.Va. in Ireland January-term program, a few friends and I went to see the movie "P.S. I Love You."
To those who are familiar with the plot, this would seem like a deliberate move, but in all honesty, I knew nothing about the film and simply thought I was in for a tear-jerker chick flick. But when the movie flashed back to Hilary Swank's character meeting the gorgeous Irishman played by Gerard Butler while studying abroad in Ireland, I felt like the movie gods were taunting me.
I left the movie feeling I had exceedingly high expectations for my trip across the pond: to meet an Irish boy (preferably a musician with attractive rocker jewelry) and to fall madly in love (although without the premature death scenario).
I feared Hollywood's usual glitz would diminish the trip I had been looking forward to for months. While I had previously gotten excited when thinking about reading James Joyce's "The Dubliners" in Dublin itself, this seemed less and less interesting the more and more I pictured Gerard Butler dancing in shamrock boxers.
Despite not encountering a Butler-like figure in the pubs of Galway or along the riverside in Dublin, the fun I experienced exceeded all the expectations I could have had.
And even though I wasn't swept off my feet by a rugged musician, music was probably the best part of my experience in Ireland.
It was all around me, be it a techno version of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" in a restaurant, a band covering Johnny Cash, a guitarist on the street or traditional musicians playing sessions in pubs.
I personally preferred listening to the traditional music and in turn got to step outside my usual iPod playlists and the C-ville radio stations I have programmed in my car.
While I did not make a love connection like Hilary Swank's characterdid, I did create lasting memories with friendly pub regulars who were happy to chat about anything from the U.S. primaries to the general madness of life.
A musician named Nick gave me seasoned advice, like to celebrate the dead rather than mourn them and to remember that everything works out in the end (a point he illustrated in a story involving a bookie and a pair of broken glasses).
A friendly woman named Cathy told me to rock the vote and kissed my forehead when I told her I helped get the Democrats into Congress last November. Her husband Eugene talked up the U.S., praising the Constitution and the genius of its creators.
Even the bartender of mine and my friend's favorite pub waved goodbye as we left Galway.
Besides the locals, I got the opportunity to bond with other Wahoos in ways I might not normally in the usual University setting. While many classes at the University are huge and anonymous, the J-term program includes a small number of people, allowing students to get to know each other while also getting to know Ireland.
In addition, you'd be surprised how people can bond while getting lost at night in the sketchy streets of Dublin, escaping the come-ons of a less-than-desirable admirer or trying to comfort someone who has had her debit card eaten by a finicky ATM.
While the trip allowed me to experience much of what Ireland has to offer, the course was specifically about Irish literature. For a literature major like myself, it was a bit of an English oasis.
The experience of seeing the places authors wrote about, lived in and experienced every day was priceless. It's one thing to read W. B. Yeats' "The Wild Swans at Coole" and another to read "The Wild Swans at Coole" in Coole Park itself.
As a result, coming back to normal lectures at the University has been difficult. Having gotten to experience literature on a more interactive basis, even the most interesting of lectures seems dry and one dimensional.
The trip may have been short, but it was chock full of new experiences and lasting memories. J-term allows one to get the taste of a place: In Ireland, we sampled the literature, tasted the stew, met the people and got just enough of the feel of the place to start planning a trip back (hopefully when one euro is not 1.5 American dollars).
I can't say that I'm not still a little sad that I didn't find my Irish musician soulmate on the trip; however, after reading in the airplane magazine that in Ireland, Hilary Swank saw little more than what was outside her car window, I feel I can live without the Hollywood ending.
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