Travels Part 1: Chasing my heritage!

When I think back on my time in London, I have this blog to reference, and it seemed too abrupt to end it on "Snow Day." I have so many stories to tell about the places I saw beyond London, so I'm going to take a bit of my time (which I have entirely too much of being unemployed and living in Lincoln, Nebraska). I'll take it country by country, giving each place enough consideration to have its own entry rather than cramming days into a single paragraph. Let me begin with the first country, my "homeland," IRELAND (Feb 17-20).


This is a point where I have to be honest. I did something dangerous, something that under any other circumstances the parental units would NOT have approved of. Yet in this instance, they actually joined in. In the autumn months, having the freedom to surf the Internet wherever I wanted to at work, I researched the genealogy of my family name in Ireland. As luck would have it, there was a thread of comments from Heaveys all over the world who wanted to know the same thing I did. One user posted a lengthy explanation of Heaveys in Ireland and ended with a paragraph urging anyone who would like to know anything else to contact him via e-mail. I did that, and turns out his name is Mick and he is currently living right outside of Dublin.

After an e-mail or two about our families (he has a small young family of his own), Mick extended a bold invitation to me. He offered to take me in a night in Ireland and show me around the areas my ancestors more than likely lived. I felt like I was living a movie, but every 20/20 special I've ever seen about online predators rushed into my mind. I put the idea on the back burner, but when my parents and sister said they were coming to London to see me, I thought this might be a life-defining moment that I would regret if I didn't experience.

Next thing I know, we're on a plane to Ireland with plans to meet Mick that night for dinner. Before that, though, we painfully found our apartment in Dublin with luggage in tow. First thing we realized on the Emerald Isle was everyone looked exactly like us. Dark hair, pale skin, deep-set eyes. Each of us had moments of doing a double-take as we passed someone who gave us the feeling of looking in a mirror.

My mom was going on about two hours of sleep, so we let her rest and Brooke, Dad and I went on one of those cheesey hop-on-hop-off bus rides that I laughed at in London. It surprised my expectations, though, because it was so convenient and it took us to all the main sites in Dublin - Trinity College, St. Patrick's Cathedral, the Guiness Brewery and more. We unfortunately didn't have time to see any of them in detail because Mick was meeting us at 6 that night, so we went home and waited for him. When he arrived he brought gifts - two copies of a book he wrote entitled The History of the Irish in the American Civil War - and we chatted a bit about our plans for the next day. He wanted to bring us to County Athlone, where the Heaveys have a strong history of living in the 19th century pre- and post potato famine. I asked if we could go to County Clare, as well, which was where my mom's father said the Doran family was from. When the plans were set, we went to dinner.

In a very snobby (I'll admit it) post-Europe moment I told Michelle Luna that I "only drink Guiness in Dublin."

But for good reason! It tastes different there...almost with a sweet hint, and it's much lighter. I had two pints that night, one at dinner and one at a charming Irish pub Mick brought us to. When you open the main door to the pub there are two doors to either side of you leading to different rooms, yet it's the same pub. We went to the bigger one, and Mick explained that when the pub was established women weren't allowed in pubs, so that's why there's a smaller room on the other side and why the ladies' restroom was up the stairs from that room, while the men's was right next to our table.

The next morning began bright and early - Mick picked us up at 7am and we started our journey across Ireland. It took about an hour and to get away from the city/surburban feel of Dublin. That area didn't seem too different from being back home in Kansas. But all at once it seemed we landed smack in the middle of the rolling hills with lines of low stone fences. To add to the awe we were feeling, Mick played some celtic Irish tunes that curved up and down along with our drive. County Clare was our first stop and it was all the way across the island. We stopped at a 10th century church where the caretaker happened to be. He kindly offered to look up my Mom's family history in the county and came up with two Dorans in the 1860s, but they had moved there from another county. They were in a type of government work that Mick nodded confirmation of when he learned of it and said he knows what happened. The kind of government work they were in was more than likely police, and police could never patrol their own county, so they were relocated to County Clare. He said he thought it sounded funny that a Doran would be from County Clare.Mystery solved! It was unbelievable how smart this man was.

We all piled into the car and drove to the Cliffs of Moore, which were breathtaking.


(I hate to say it, but I found Scotland to be more beautiful.)

Then we looped back to County Athlone, the moment Mick had been waiting for. This was as meaningful to him as it was to us, as he explained he had met American Heaveys from the Northwest and the Northeast but didn't even know we were in the Midwest (I have an extended family of at least 20 in the KC area and I know there are plenty more in Chicago and St. Louis, so that was odd).

We went to a cemetery that had Heavey gravestones from the 1700s, but they were mispelled because most headstone carvers were illiterate. We found Heffy and Heavy...but the most amazing part of it was that there was a Doran gravestone in the SAME GRAVEYARD. Earlier my Dad had asked Mick the likelihood of him and my mom meeting had they lived in Ireland and Mick said not likely, as people stuck to their own communities and rarely ventured far, but here was proof that they could have. It was one of those moments that are rare in my life that I felt a possibility of something like fate.

We stayed with Mick's family that night and had a big "Irish" dinner of Lasagna...Our flight departed from Belfast, Northern Ireland, which I didn't like nearly as much as Dublin. I honestly don't think it stood a chance against the history I saw and felt in the Republic of Ireland.

Snow Day!

Snow. I've seen it every year of my life, some years more than others. I had more nights than I could count in my childhood when I went to sleep praying for a snow day and woke early in the morning after the buses had time to test the roads, scrambling over the covers, flipping on the local news and crossing my fingers until USD 383 either scrolled across the screen below the newscaster or scoffed at my incessant wishes by presenting a void between the closures of 382 and 384. So many times in the most treacherous weather the numbers skipped past my district and I was bundled into an unmovable mass of down feathers and wool and sent on my way to waddle on to school.

I never lived in the mountains, but I must say, I have faced my fair share of inclimate snowy weather. And this, London, this is a joke.

Four inches of snow in the morning caused all buses in London to hault, shut down the Underground subway system, closed more than 260 schools and canceled or delayed all incoming flights to the city's airports. One out of every five Britons didn't show up for work. The surprising storm sent grown adults into the streets throwing snowballs at strangers at 2 in the morning and encouraged families to venture to the park to build snowmen. It gave conversation topics to people who have nothing to talk about any other day.

Amir and I were going to watch the Superbowl after I got off work, which kicked off at 11:30 pm, but as soon as I realized the commercials wouldn't be aired I took to the streets to photograph.

The snow was at least 2 inches by the time we were out and it kept coming down heavily. Buses were still operating but found the snow too difficult to handle, calling it quits around midnight. We were stranded in a city-wide recess with frozen fingers and toes, so we walked home and were back by 3rd quarter.
The next morning we took a stroll around Regent's Park and watched the sledders, the snowman builders, the fellow strollers...everyone was happy.

I love snow days. And even though this city's reaction to the snow is just silly and laughable, I'll take a distraction from the work rut when I can get one.

Inaugural reactions

Many people have asked me if I watched the inauguration yesterday. I answer with a small smile and a proud nod and say yes. It is still a fresh moment to me, and bits of his speech are still playing in the back of my mind. I bought 4 different newspapers today to bring home with Obama on the cover of each one. It's a good day to be an American anywhere you happen to be, but not everyone in the world is in love with Obama.

One resident who is normally very friendly to me just passed by the desk and I was asked once again if I watched the inauguration. I smiled, nodded, said yes, and he said he didn't watch it. He said it in a slightly confrontational way, as if to say, "What do you think of that?" and I said, "Yeah, I know a few people who didn't watch it." And he said, "You understand why, don't you?" "Well, yeah, I suppose, it's not your country." (Which I'd heard from some, and I think it's ignorant because this election will affect the world, but people have their reasons). "Not only that," he said, "Do you know where I'm from? I'm from Russia. Our countries are not allies." He went on to ramble about how it's a superpower that is out to take over the world, and I eventually had to ask which country, Russia or America? And he said "Your country. Don't you think that?" And I carefully said that I think that America holds a place in the world with some responsibilities to step in and help less fortunate countries, but yes there are people in the government who choose to overstep those responsibilities sometimes. Still in an attacking manner, getting a little angry he said "Why? Why does it do that? Why do you think it has a right to do that?" Realizing that the conversation was taking an ugly turn of attacking not only my country but me personally, I said that I don't know, I'm not involved in those meetings, but maybe someday.

Tonight I was talking to my duty manager Eva and told her that I'm more comfortable talking politics with people here than in America. Back home politics is such a touchy issue and people tend to lash out, but here it's more about understanding cultures, not argument. I think that's why this guy made me want to write about what he said, because people aren't normally so hostile.

Eccentricities at the Student House

In big cities, you get crazy people. I think everyone can attest to that. We've had a few of those people at the International Students House lately. So crazy that I began taking notes when they spoke to me or around me. It's the stuff books are made of.

Crazy Person #1: A frizzy haired chinese woman who refers to herself as Sarah Brown has been here at ISH for the past month or so. She sent the accommodation department an e-mail that said, "Greetings, my name is Sarah Brown from America. I am here to marry your Prime Minister, Gordon Brown. I would appreciate anything you can do to assist me." Now, Sarah Brown is the name of Gordon Brown's wife, which is hilarious to me. In the past few days she's become more and more eccentric, tying up the red phone booth in the lobby for 4 hours on end trying to call the Prime Minister, then calling anyone a racist who tries to stop her.

Crazy #2: Maria, the old Polish woman who says she is from America.
Maria is very short and wears a grey trench coat with hair striped with grey and red. She has huge round blue glasses with thick lenses that she has to squint to see me through. We were told she is not to be allowed in the building, so she stands behind the barrier, right in front of me and shouts at me in a high pitched voice about how they got to me and turned me against her. She asked me where I'm from but I didn't respond when she guessed almost every english speaking country, then began with U.S. states until I told her I'm from Kansas.
Then Nacho, the duty manager came and told her she is not welcome because she is rude to staff. She accused him of being racist then told him to go back to Madrid where the terrorists are. Then he said, but Maria, now you are being prejudiced. And she said "Yes!"
Then they went outside where she told Nacho to go to hell and left, but not before sticking her head inside the door and saying to me, "Kansas, you are sitting in the snake pit, I don't know why you're here, sitting in the snake pit!"

She left for a few hours, but just came back and asked to be let inside. I said no, I can't let you inside, and she proceeded to talk to me nonstop once again. Here are some bits of this lovely woman:

You don't talk to me because I'm old, and I don't wear short skirts and show my PooPah. Because that's what girls your age do, you know, they lift up their skirts and show their PooPah. I was just at the hospital and a nurse there bent down and I saw hers.

Girls go missing here. You know that? Girls go missing all the time. Especially American ones.

Nacho: Maria, the police are coming to remove you from the property.
Maria: Wonderful! Put the property on your back and take it to Madrid!

Oh, and Crazy #1 and Crazy #2 are friends.

Strange but true.

Passing the time

Sometimes I feel completely useless.
So I decided rather than sit under my covers all day eating olives and Facebook stalking, I can try to make an effort to record what has happened in the month since I last wrote.
Adam came to London.
We celebrated Christmas with friends from all over the world and drunk-baked Christmas cookies.
We went to Bath and saw where Nicolas Cage lives and where Jane Austen based her books. We took a dip in the natural spring water the Romans built their city on.

Then we waited in the freezing cold for four hours on New Year's to get a good view of the Eye firworks (it was worth it). What should have been a 30 minute walk home took us 2 hours because of the crowds.

Onward to Edinburgh and we spit on the heart, then off to the Highlands.
(The most beautiful landscapes I've ever seen)
We made grilled cheese with an Aussie couple, only to discover their version was completely different and didn't involve two pieces of bread or even a pan.

We saw an anti-Israel rally in Kensington.

I got scared and made us go to Harrod's instead.

Ate at a French restaurant that was far too fancy - I raced the waiter to the door when I had to go to the bathroom. I didn't realize they open it for you.

Now it's back to boredom. Yes, leave it to me to be bored and restless in London, England. Can't help it.