DAY 4

8:30 AM Craving orange juice. Not to complain, but just trying to understand how someone who runs a grocery store has nothing (save beer) in their refrigerator. Not kidding. Only thing in there is beer, a LOT of beer. Good old Miller Genuine Draft. Due to Bi-Lo having MGD on super sale in 1999, that was the drink of choice as a freshman at Clemson.

10:00 AM 2nd day of camp. Nothing real eventful. One passionate camper shows the Irish temper when he screams at me as the ref, made even funnier since at age 11 he somehow had this deep baritone of a 40 year old.
4:30 PM After camp, I decide to explore through town. I jog a couple of miles and stumble upon a 13th century abbey, the Yeats (born in Sligo) museum, a memorial of the “Great Hunger” (Potato famine) and their beautiful cathedral. Probably the overall prettiest building I have been in so far this trip. Made it home by 6:30 so that I could eat dinner with the roommate before the soccer game he was going to.


8:30 PM Apparently he went straight to the soccer game from work. I can’t leave because I don’t know how to lock the stupid door. Come to learn you have to hold the door handle all the way up while locking.

9:00 PM Host is home and we are now heading out to a pub. It’s rugby appreciation night or some nonsense, but the most important thing is that the pub is grilling and giving away free burgers and chicken wings. WHAT A BREAK!! Guinness differs a lot even amongst pubs within Ireland, as this pint is not nearly as good as my first one. They have a competition between three girls to see who can pour the best glass of Guinness, which takes a lot of patience and skill (tons of head with Guinness). Winner received tickets to Springsteen. Listen to a lot of MJ (they love him and are saddened by his death over here) and call it a night. So glad I got to eat and the freeness of the food is as I say…AWESOME!!

11:00 pm Some girl is embarrassingly inebriated and leans into to whisper something in my ear, “I’m 17 today, shhhh.” Nice.

Here is some Yeats for you poetry fans. It is kinda creepy how they move his lips Conan O'Brien skit style.



Here is 3 really good and short poems as well:

"When you are old"

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

"He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silverlight,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

An Irish Airman Forsees His Death

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My county is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.