I have been here for almost a month now, and after 26 days in one place, you would think I would know my way around.
I had to be at the Abbey Theatre at 7:30 p.m. I finished class at 5 p.m., and according to Google Maps, the theatre was just a few kilometers away - all it would take was a bus ride and a 15-minute walk.
I planned to get dinner in the city center, read and do all the other activities that would make it look - to the strange eye, at least - as if I belonged.
It turns out that it is hard to look like you belong when you begin your "15-minute" walk to the Abbey Theatre by getting off the bus stop three stops too early. Why I did that, I still have no idea. I would like to say I wanted the extra exercise but - as many can attest, and as this story will affirm - I really just need a GPS attached to me. Disorientation hit almost immediately, but seeing as (part of) the point of this trip was to fully establish myself as a true Dubliner (the other part was that I was required to go see "The Seafarer" for a class), I decided to walk, very briskly, with my head held high, hoping for the best.
I saw a sign for Grafton Street, and pressed on - in the wrong direction - back toward where I had just been. Great start.
I had to do the ultimate I-don't-belong-here action: Pull out a map. The map didn't help. Please, judging by what I've said so far, do you think I can read a map? I resorted to calling my roommate and pleading with her, in my American accent, to help me.
I saw the bright lights ahead: the one place I could locate, St. Stephen's Green Shopping Centre. I knew exactly where I was - near the stores, near the food and near the pubs. But, of course, I still had to cross the river. It was 6:45.
I found Dawson Street and turned right onto Nassau. But where was College Street? O'Connell Street? Lower Abbey Street? I marched into Trinity College, thinking I could pretend to be a student there until I found a help desk. Of course, all I found were millions of students eating, making this the point when I, too, realized that I was extremely hungry and growing increasingly jealous of their snacks. With no help desk in sight and still being too prideful to ask for directions, I hailed a taxi.
"Where to?"
"The Abbey Theatre, please."
The look on the cabdriver's face told me all I needed to know: I was about two feet from the theatre, and - despite all of my efforts - I looked like a clueless American. Five euros later, armed with very specific directions on how to get there - turn right and walk straight for 10 feet - I was at the Abbey Theatre. My night could begin - really, the part of the night for which I was least excited: the play.
I sat in the last row. The Abbey Theatre is not too big, so I could see the stage and just barely make out some of the little details. The set looked like the aftermath of an epic party. There were beer cans everywhere, an overturned couch ... an arm, and a very hungover man stumbling around trying to find his glasses.
The play wasn't like "The Hangover" in any way. None of the actors looked like Bradley Cooper, and the play wasn't about the day after one wild night of drinking. Rather, three guys just drank all the time as we watched their lives unravel.
There's generally about a 50-50 chance that I can decipher a Dublin-Irish accent - thus, an affected Western Irish accent is practically incomprehensible to me. I had yet to read the play, so I tried my best to follow the accents and the words I could pick up. Unfortunately, my location in the back row did not help with any of this. I mostly just developed my own story line based on the characters' actions.
During class, we talked about how the international community perceives Irish people and how this play fed into the typical stereotypes: that Irish people consume copious amounts of alcohol, speak with no filter, are violent - the list goes on. As I joke that my only goal while here is to look like I belong, I wonder what that would entail. The people who I know aren't like that; what does it mean that we've always allowed these stereotypes?
Certainly, a good place to start would be to stop having to break out my map.\n\nAllie's column runs biweekly Tuesdays. She can be reached at a.palmer@cavalierdaily.com.
Read More
Students brave the cold for a whirlwind sorority rush
By Mia Tan | 13 hours agoStudents recount a mix of emotions from rush, with some disappointed after dropping from the recruitment process and others ecstatic to join Greek life.
Top 10 ways to avoid burnout this semester
By Sam Saks | YesterdayAs you settle into this semester, try implementing these 10 tactics to take care of yourself and wave goodbye to burnout.
Top 10 things I learned the day TikTok went dark
By Elizabeth Parsons | 4 days agoI am poised to bestow newfound pieces of wisdom from my short-lived TikTok detox.
