A Trip Back in Time

       

Edinburgh was the experience of lifetime. There's no other way to put it.

I've wanted to go to Scotland since I was a kid. My grandmother grew up there and questions me every Christmas about it, "When are you going to Scotland??"

I never had an answer until I chose to study abroad.

The sight of the city is worth the trip alone. Going to Edinburgh is, literally, like going back 300 years in time. There are many cities like this round Europe, each with their own pizzazz (add that to the "dope words" list), and Edinburgh is no different. The Edinburgh Castle, The Royale Mile, and St. Mary's close are just some of the great, admittedly touristy, options.

The Castle is right out of a fairytale. It's actually like it's own little city once you're inside, that's how big it is. There were some cool exhibits inside, like the War Memorial and War Museum, but most of it was trumped by the views around the edges of the Castle itself. Placed on top of the entire city, you can see miles in almost every direction. The New Town, the Old Town, the ocean...all of it is visible and spectacular. Walking thru the prisons and old towers is an eerie yet refreshingly new feeling. Only 150 years ago this Castle was active with people shuffling around.

When I explore places like this, going off the beaten path is something I always want to do. Why the hell can't I go past the roped off areas? The ones that lead to the bowels of the Castle where there are probably even cooler sights - sights that not many have been able to see, ever. I'd give anything to go check out the "real" Castle, the parts you can't see because of preservation or some shit...give me a break. I don't bite, I promise, I just want to explore more! That being said, there is nothing to complain about, the Castle is still a wonder with what is available. Without a doubt the most beautiful one I've ever been to, and I've been to many in Germany.

for Connor Murray

"Cemetery for Solider Dogs"...badass

Exploring was great, but going out into the city with friends was just as fun. The Scots are interesting people. The accent is thick, the kilts are distinguished, and the scotch is culture. I actually forget about Scotch Whiskey till we arrived. Personally, Scotch is far to harsh for me to drink. It's smokey, it burns, and it's well...unpleasant. But when in Rome (Edinburgh), do as the Romans (Scots) do...

Honestly, the Scots are more fun anyway. One wouldn't expect such an old, cultured city like this to have such a lively, young and vibrant nightlife. The first night saw the crew trying out some local bars and pubs very reminiscent of the ones I've found in Ireland. My personal favorite pub was called "The Worlds End", which took it's name from some interesting history. Apparently where this pub is located was the town line for the city years ago, and once you crossed it, the chances of coming back were not likely. Thus, "The Worlds End" is a fitting name. There was a local musician playing the night we went and he was KILLING it. Pink Floyd, The Strokes, The Stones, The Beatles, The Smiths (Jerry Collins, how are ya?)...I mean the guy didn't play a bad song and nailed every one. Definitely check this place out if you're ever there.

The second night we decided to check out the college scene there. The Scots...can drink... This is a reoccurring theme over in Europe that is unfortunately not the case in America. It is honestly strange going out into the "college" part of town when it looks like we're in 1850. The music, the vibes, it just doesn't sound like it would fit, but it does. To be straight up and direct, the night was late and fun...we'll leave it at that. (if you can't laugh, stay the f**k home)

On the final day we took a small hike to Calton Hill. This was again a place with a 360 degree view of the whole city. Unreal. After the hike, we went back to the Scottish Market where, personally, I saw one of the most unbelievable generous actions of mankind...

We went into the market to kill some time before our flight back, so we sat down at a long table and chatted. Eventually we noticed this homeless man making strange noises, not really being a bother, but more a nuisance to the market. He wasn't loud, he wasn't cursing, but he was certainly being "sketchy". A few minutes later, the owner of the market went up to him and told him to take a set and settle down. First off, it is outstanding that he didn't kick him out in the first place. I didn't think much of it - I went back to browsing the market. This guy had a really cool stand set up with punk albums from 1977. The collection was around 50 CD's, quite impressive. I finished chatting with the salesmen, who was from England and suggested some fun bars, and went back to the bench to kill some more time. All of a sudden, I noticed the owner go a grab a scone, one being sold to customers, and wander back towards the homeless man. He gave him the scone. Every one had left at this point so I was the only one to see this. I thought, "Wow, that is a real human being". But it wasn't over. The owner went back to his stand. I thought he was going to continue on with work so I stopped paying attention. Three minutes later I saw him walking towards the homeless man, again, this time with a hot cup of coffee. Now, I understand that this might seem like something every one should do, but that's not our reality. In today's society, we do NOT see generosity like this, especially towards the homeless. I could care less about the social experiments we all see online...the feeling that overcomes you when you physically witness an act such as this is overwhelming, to say the least. Obviously I didn't, but it's the kind of feeling that makes you want to cry happiness. And I wanted to so bad. It is hope that humanity still exists in this disgustingly cruel world.

I went up to the owner after. I felt compelled to. This man deserved recognition that I knew no one else would give him. I talked with him for about 10 minutes and I learned a lot about this homeless man. Apparently he comes into the market, which is by the way located in an old unused Church, and sits down to look at the stained glass portraits of Jesus, Saint Mary, etc... That day, he was just a little more out of whack, but it became clear to me that this owner knew this homeless man, but the homeless man did not know him. Mental problems? Likely... Does that mean he should be treated like an animal? No. Not at all. This Scotsman actually changed my life and I'm not just saying that. I was honestly speechless when talking to the owner.

He said to me, "Look up there, boy", pointing at Jesus in stained glass, "do you know who that is?"
I said, "Jesus".
He said, "That's right. And if he were standing here right now, what do you think he would've done?"

Awestruck. I'm not a religious person and believe that religion is the root to many of our world's problems today, but this man proved to me that religion still has the potential to do some real good. By no means will I become a religious person, but this man is an exceptional human being. As crazy as it sounds, with all the sights - the castle, the pubs, and the architecture - this was the highlight of my trip. For others, it might be different, but they did not see what I saw.



All in all, Scotland, you were great. Beauty, awe, friendship, fun, and admiration...you gave it all to me. I cannot wait to go back someday. I can assure you that I will. All I can say is, thank you.

Next up we got Amsterdam, Brussels, and Budapest. Bring it on spring break.

see you again soon

_________________________________________________________________________

(shoutout The Donation Foundation for all the dope benches around the city)

(also, Walker McCandrew has never heard of a shower beer. to say the least, i lost a little respect, but hey, still love you. Evidenced: this wondrous picture...)

stay tuned...

(soundtrack to this blog: The Slim Shady LP by Eminem)

The Other B(e)urly

Ah, Berly...

No, not Burlington, Vermont. I'm talking about Berlin, Germany.

Damn, that place is fun!

For my birthday I hopped off the Emerald Isle to go see my buddy Jack who is studying in Berlin. Who would've thought two roommates would study abroad at the same time? Not only that, but actually make an effort to see each other? Perfect timing I suppose..

inside the clash

I landed in Berlin on Friday night after an incredibly turbulent flight (which I was not a fan of, by the way) only to see Jack standing at the train station waiting for me. Bro-mance indeed. We quickly got ready, headed out to the city, and drank some good (and very, very cheap) German beer at a cool bar called "The Clash". I highly recommend checking this place out if you're ever in Berlin, especially if you dig the punk scene. The bar has an atmosphere I've never experienced before - it was loud, lively, smokey, and the walls were filled with posters from famous punk shows and bands. True definition of being "free". That's how the punk scene is and always has been - anarchy.

I met some Berliners who'd been living there for about 10 years. I say Berliners even though they were from Australia and the States because if you have lived in the city for a certain amount of time, you are considered a Berliner. And they certainly were by evidence of knowing all the best places to go.

They spoke both English and German just about perfectly. After traveling to Germany for many years, yearly actually, I've noticed this trend. The Germans ability to speak English is astounding. Not just in Berlin, but small towns and cities. It is a trait I respect because learning another language is no easy task (ask Jack).

hops & barley: the micro brew

They took us to a cool micro-brew bar that instantly reminded me of, yes, Burlington, Vermont. Vermont is home to some of the best microbreweries not just in the country, but the world. Visiting a place like this truly felt like I was at home, so to say. They had a variety of different beers, all brewed in the basement, ranging from very dark beer to a lighter beer. If I recall there were about 7 different types of beers. I tried the Dunkelbier and Pilsner. Dunkelbier simply means a dark German lager and they vary from region to region. In Möchengladbach, the city where my family resides, the dark beer is Alt-bier. Great beer, but it is certainly an acquired taste. This Dunkelbier was much lighter than the Alt's I was used to, but still very good. The Pilsner was unlike any Pilsner I've ever tried. When you think of Pilsners Pilsner Urquell or Becks probably come to mind, both of which are terrible examples of Pilsners. This one was unfiltered and had MUCH more flavor than the mass-produced versions. Overall, it was probably the best beer I had all weekend. Oh, and mind you, we were playing German card games and getting to know one another. It was great craic.


The night was long and I learned that Germans, in Berlin anyway, stay out till 4 or 5 in the morning at the very earliest. It is quite a different culture in that sense. But still, the late night didn't deter us from getting up the next day. I mean, we kind of had too because we were about to go experience a real German soccer game, and not only that, but one that mattered significantly to the standings. As you could imagine, the place was ROWDY...

Hertha Berlin vs. Borussia Dortmund. Hertha isn't a team used to winning. They usually place in the lower half of the Bundesliga, but this year is much different, they are #3 and battling to keep their spot. I cannot put into words the way fans are at soccer games in Europe; it is just something you have to experience yourself (check the video out).

At night we went a laid-back bar, seemingly only for those that "know" about it. Luckily Jack had some great connections so he found out about this place pretty quickly. The bar had a relaxed atmosphere. I sipped my gin and tonic with ease.

The next day, Sunday, I finally got to see some of the more famous (touristy) sites in Berlin, namely the Wall, the Brandenburg Gate, and the Reichstag. These places were simply unbelievable, especially the Wall. Like the Cliffs of Moher, but different in its own way, you could feel an energy around the Wall. The energy was of angst. This city was tormented for almost 40 years of authoritative separation, all symbolized by street art spread throughout the entirety of the Wall. Some people say that it is just a wall, but it represents something far more than that. It embodies the attitudes of Germans who had to deal with such violent oppression. The art is their way of saying, "Fuck you", and deservingly so. I took a slow stroll with Jack down the wall and looked at every piece of art. They all had something to say, but each artist took their own approach to the subject. I could feel their anger.

               

       

by far my favorite art on the wall. a perfect representation 

The Brandenburg Gate and Reichstag were also quite beautiful, but nothing could top the feeling I got from the Wall. Although, I should point out that the Reichstag has some of the craziest architecture I've ever seen... (and FOUR German flags, just in case you forgot)

All in all, I cannot deny that this was without a doubt the best weekend I've had over here. I got to see my best friend (which I desperately needed), I got to drink some beers, I got to see some history, and maybe most importantly, I got to eat some Jägerschnitzel. Hallelujah, rejoice.

stay tuned...

(soundtrack to this blog: Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols by Sex Pistols)

Diary of a Small-School College Kid

Saint Michael's College (though without the best part, North Campus)

I can handle it, don't worry...

Every day since my arrival has been better than the one before (I think) and only recently have my classes started. Yes, let us all remember that I am STUDYING abroad, not simply just BEING abroad. I've been exposed to a life I never knew before...

Since the 8th grade private school is all I've known. The Rumsey Hall School, The Taft School, Saint Michael's College...all private (non-profit...lol) institutions. While most kids attended public school during their formative years, that was not the case for me.

The University of Limerick is the first taste of public school I've had in years and while it is in no way similar to public high school because of the obvious difference in curriculum and general Irish educational structure, let me say that I did not miss it. By this I do not mean the school isn't fun because it is...however, the way classes are taught is a completely foreign concept to me. This concept isn't foreign to us all though; many of my friends that I study abroad with from America attend large university schools.

"A class with more than 100 kids in it? Are you kidding me? This has to be a joke..."

l...o...f...l

These were my thoughts after my first week of classes. I cannot lie to myself, this is what I knew to expect from UL, and after all it is a school with 15,000+ kids. I knew classes would be different, but I did not know how much I would long for the style in which Saint Michael's College conducts classes. Small, discussion based classes that had no more than 30 kids in a classroom that felt much like high school. This is the liberal arts school I've complained about for making me take classes I never wanted to (and still don't, by the way...science and spanish...kill me, I'm an ENGLISH major).

Let me tell you something...while learning about Renaissance Literature or Irish Contemporary Literature one should not be put into a classroom with more than 30 kids. Its true that UL and many other large universities conduct what is called "tutorials". These are smaller groups of kids, maybe 20-30 people, from the larger class put into a more discussion based classroom. I'll give you an A for effort, but please...

I'll tell you right now what's valuable about being in a small classroom, things that I originally hoped to avoid in college, but now appreciate more than ever:

-professors watch you
-it is hard to talk to other students
-not  surfing social media
-attention is required to succeed, not "requested"

When applying for colleges the only criteria I abided by was a large university. In fact, my top three schools were 20,000+ kids. I got rejected/wait-listed by every one of them. At the time, I resented them and my time at Taft more than anything. I mean, why go a private school if you don't find success with the colleges you wanted to go to? That's all I could think, and for that matter, thought until my second year of college. This has changed.

I ended up at Saint Michael's College by accident. That was not the plan. I can tell you right now, with what I've learned and the friends I've made, it is without the best "accident" to ever happen to me. I miss being in a class where raising your hand for a question is encouraged, not DIScouraged. I miss having a teacher watch me, making sure that I'm not on my phone or surfing FaceBook. Hell, half the time teachers won't let you use your computer for notes because they know...they are not stupid...and they care a great deal.

And I'm not saying there is anything wrong with this type of large university education. It has worked for years and produced some of the brightest people the worlds ever seen. I'm especially not taking away from the professors who have dedicated their lives to teaching this way. This is what they know..and most likely what they love. They themselves certainly don't discourage questions, it is the system that does. It is the system, not the professors that have negative effects on students.

But this is not what I know. This is not what I love about education. I like having my professors keep an eye on me. Why? Because I (and probably YOU, too) learn more that way. Sure, you might zone out for a class or two..or three..or whatever...but the fact remains that when you are in a smaller class, it is more conducive to learning.

I will adjust and since I know how to learn thanks to Rumsey, Taft, and Saint Michael's, I have no worries that I will succeed. It will just take some time to get used to. I can handle it, don't worry...

So note to self, others, and especially Saint Michael's College students:

While I understand it can be annoying to have teachers up your ass, emailing you daily, yelling at you to pay attention, CARING, let me tell you that you are LEARNING. And learning a hell of a lot more than many of the kids who attend large schools because it is simply easier for them to disappear in class...when attention is necessary to succeed.

stay tuned...

(soundtrack to this blog: MTV Unplugged in New York by Nirvana)

(btw its my birthday tomorrow, send me hot sauce and ranch. they don't have that necessary American shit here)

A Box of Chocolates

atop the cliffs of moher (go vikings)

Life is and is not like a box of chocolates. On one hand, I knew that I'd miss my friends, but I did not know that I would miss them this much. On the flip side of the coin, I had an idea of what to expect from my experience in Ireland, but I did not expect this much fun so fast.

Truth is, the box of chocolates gives you a list of which chocolates are where, but despite knowing this, you're still some times skeptical of the ones you've never tried. Why is this?

Not sure really.

Like I said, I knew missing my friends and family would be an unavoidable emotion, but of course it was not strong enough to deter me from leaving the states. Just because something is known, like the list the box of chocolates gives you, it does not mean I'll jump right in...I already know. I'll be a bit skeptical, but in the end, I'll probably go for the unknown anyway...like I did with the study abroad experience. My friends and family are without a doubt the most important people in my life. Grateful is a word not strong enough to describe my ability to talk with them still. If I could not talk to my friends, this experience would be much more difficult.

And let me be clear: I am lucky, happy, grateful, excited, curious, and everything in between about my time in Ireland. So far the experience has been better than I expected. I made a great group of friends quickly, which is something I'm thankful for because in the end, we all feel the same: grateful, but still missing home. We go out, we stay in, we eat together, we are a unit that feels the same way about this experience. And it is comforting to know that other people are in the same boat.

for gods sake, just look at this for a moment

The Cliffs of Moher are the perfect example of how incredible this experience has already been. I found it quite unfortunate that many people at the Cliffs were on their phones. There is no doubt that I was a victim of this myself, but all I did was take pictures. I talked with my friends, chatted about how amazing the place was amongst other various things, but for the most part I was silent, taking in what I could. And taking it all in is actually impossible because the sheer might of these cliffs is simply indescribable.
I've seen pictures and videos of it before, having some idea of what to expect, but being there was a totally different feeling. It was spiritual. I could feel some presence there with us all, you know? Don't know if it was a God or...yeah, I just don't know what it was, but there was certainly a higher power there. That's something pictures cannot do; pictures cannot make you feel that way. Only experience can...

So let me clear about this box of chocolates...
Just because you know the list of where each flavor is does not mean it's easy to choose. I just think it's brave to choose the ones you don't know. While choosing the unknown can sometimes make you cringe for a second (like missing my friends & family), you know that you'll save the best ones for last (my experience in Ireland and the eventual reunion back home). Nothing about the choice takes away from the experience, it IS the experience.

stay tuned...

(soundtrack to this blog: Static Age by Misfits)

Know Your Surroundings

one of the two Limerick bus services

Today was the first day I did something alone. I believe that in order to acquaint yourself with another country or city so that you feel comfortable, you need to get your own bearings first.

With the help of our API hosts, Maria and Gerard, I had some idea of how the bus system worked here. In my life, public transportation was never a thing. The only time I ever took a bus regularly was in elementary school (shoutout Barkhamsted Elementary) and even then my father drove me to school often. High school was another story - I lived only 5 minutes away and rode my moped there. Yes, my moped... Eventually I bought a car so the worries of travel were no more.

Now that I'm in a different country and have no car, public transportation is the only way. I'm not complaining...majorities of people in the world use it. It's just not something that I'm accustomed too. The way I see it is if I can figure out how to navigate the surrounding area all by myself, there will never be an instance where I am stuck...because I know how to handle.

Today I took the bus to the city of Limerick for some shopping. I had to grab some food, clothes, and bed linens. I found out shortly after arriving, to my ignorant surprise, that the bed linens they provided me needed to be returned. Shopping around the city is extremely easy here, just like it would be in any city because everything is so close. After roughly 1 hour of shopping, it was time to return home. But since I was walking all over the place with blind glee, not taking in my surroundings, I kind of lost the location for the bus stop. No worries, though, I was up for the challenge.

Sure, I could have easily asked a local for directions, but determination is a strong emotion. If I couldn't find my way back, how am I supposed to live here for four months? I walked around for another half hour, maybe more, until I found the bus stop. The bus was even there waiting...just for me, haha.

Simply put, immersing yourself in another culture is great craic (look it up). Talking to and meeting new people is always an interesting experience - one I greatly look forward too. And it is always great to have help, really. However, doing things by your self tends to be harder so if I can do that, then I should be able to do anything around here.

To be comfortable...take a deep breath, examine your surroundings, and get a feel, because if you don't know where you are, how the hell are you supposed to know where you're going?

stay tuned...

I'm Here

Dromroe Village...where I'll be living

Don't forget that I'm actually studying abroad in Ireland...and I have arrived.

After a rather bumpy flight, one I was shockingly able to sleep on, I walked through customs, picked up my bags, and met my fellow classmates. It's actually quite interesting - they're from all over the country and go to different schools. We got UNH, Texas States, Colorado State, some others, and finally, little old Saint Michael's College represented by none other than my self.

the API kids...at 7 a.m.

Now that I'm here and relatively settled in (if 8hrs in a new country constitutes "settled in"), I feel good. I feel like this is a place I can call home for a few months, and I can say it with confidence.

First off, Saint Michaels...you're doing it wrong. I'm in a six-person suite, which admittedly sounds tight, but it does not feel so. Each room living space is a single and it rivals any traditional hotel room - I have storage upon storage for clothes, a huge study desk, a radiator that actually WORKS, and most importantly, my own damn bathroom. I'm still surprised these are my accommodations. I don't feel like a student per say, but a visitor. Now this is a huge university, so you're likely going to find some better housing, but I didn't expect this. My favorite part about the room, however, is my view. When I wake up, I'll be staring directly at a beautiful river and on the other side, the university campus extends.

The first day is always special. Every one is jet lagged, but every one is excited. Every one is nervous, but every one is ready to have fun. We went to Limerick briefly to grab some essentials and upon my first viewing of the city I was actually reminded of Burlington, just a larger version. Maybe that's just because Burlington is what I know and admittedly still where I want to be, or maybe it's just true. Either way, it feels like home. And home is where I want to be.

This week will consist of a routine, mundane, but surely important orientation period. But when we aren't in orientation, we will be exploring Limerick's castles and hidden treasures, which I look forward too. Castles have always been of serious interest to me and Ireland is known for its array, Limerick being home to most of them actually.

In time, I'll have a lot more to talk about, but for now, just remember that change is good and comes in many different forms. I'm embracing it now and will continue to do so.

(Ethan Allen folks, I miss you all)

stay tuned...

The Taft

(Yes, I know it looks like Hogwarts)

The Taft School.

There's a reason I saved this place for its own blog post - it's kinda important.

As you may know, I transferred from the public school system to the private in 8th grade, first attending the junior boarding school Rumsey Hall then eventually The Taft School, a rather prestigious boarding school in the United States.

It's time to be honest - the only reason I was able to attend Taft was because my stepmother works there. Truth is, Taft is probably manageable for most high school students, my self included, but first you have to get accepted. That is really the hard part. There are typically over 1700 applicants and they only select roughly 100-150 students. If you've never taken economics, this is what would be called a competitive market. Not only are there an insane amount of applicants, most of them sport resumes with incredibly high GPA's or star studded athletic careers - and sometimes both. Taft is an intimidating environment for a typical academic or athletic student, to say the least.

Without my stepmothers influence, I truly do not believe I would have be able to go to Taft and it is something I wish I could thank her for every day. Never have I told her this because I know she would say something like "You did it by going to Rumsey first and getting your self familiar with prep school". Sure, I did do that, but let me tell you Pilar, it didn't mean shit when it came to Taft. You, my mother & father, a select few members of the Rumsey faculty, and the man who checked off the accepted box are all people who got me to where I am today. Some credit is due my way, but most of it yours.

There's not really a way to say how Taft impacted me. It had its pros and cons like any high school. The pros of Taft are the relationships you can build with faculty. While I find my self at odds with many of Taft's faculty, the one's I have relationships with are some of the most important influences in my life - namely Pam MacMullen, and Ken Hincker.

Pam is an incredible person. Pam teaches English at Taft, but more importantly she was my advisor for 3 official years (but she's really been one the whole time I've known her) I'd known them prior attending Taft because I became good friends with their kids - Johnny and Tom - at Rumsey Hall School.

Pam MacMullen was the person who was there for me...all the time...no matter what. Taft was not an easy place for me to adjust to for the reasons above - I just thought the kids were better than me. It was the only time in my life that I was on the brink of being legitimately depressed, missing the friends I'd made at Rumsey and the friends I grew up with. I don't know what it was about her as an advisor and friend that helped me, but she was able to calm me down and focus my thoughts. I remember starting off my Taft career with a C overall. However, every semester thereafter, my GPA rose, even if it was by a single .1. This was a direct effect of Pam MacMullen constantly encouraging me. There are some people in life, excluding family, that care for you, want to see you succeed, and will sacrifice time out of their lives to do so - that's what Pam and the MacMullen family as a whole did for me.



(((Mrs. Mac, I know I've told you this many times before, but you deserve to hear it every day: You're a wonderful, caring person who I owe much of my success too - both in my academic career and life in general. Thank you for being there for me then and today still.)))

Ken Hincker was an English teacher at Taft and he really opened my eyes about literature. Prior to my senior year, English class was not one of my strong suits and in fact, I'd say I had pleasure in hating it the first two years there. Ken taught my senior elective "Dystopian Literature" where we read books like 1984, A Clockwork Orange, and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. This class was so damn fun. I'd never known the different levels of meaning and interpretation literature could have until this class. That's what attracted me - how you can read the same chapter a few different times and every time it can have a new meaning depending on the perspective you chose to read it in. How awesome is that? Ken is the man I owe my major choice too - it's because his class that I study English now. Go ahead, ask me what I'll do with that degree like every one else...

(((Thanks, Ken. You truly did help mold me into the student I am today. Had I never taken your class, I don't know what I'd be doing in college. I'd probably just being a business major or something super generic, but I'm not. I'm doing what I like because you helped me discover that.)))

Then there's the kids. Man, I miss those guys. I don't mean to leave anyone out, but Remo, Flath, Simonds, Kenyon, McCellan, Nej, Valle, Wesson, Sperry, the Junior boys and a buncha other classmates...what the hell would we have done had we not had each other? I mean for real, think about Taft without your friends. We'd be talking about something completely different...hell, actually. The friendships I made there mean just as much to me as every thing else I learned academically. I still talk to most of you, but for those classmates that I don't talk too anymore or were never friends with in the first place, thank you. Because without you guys, Taft would not have been Taft.



      

I just want to reiterate how much this experience meant to me. I am Peter Linn because Taft and the people there helped me do this. I have many regrets, specifically that I didn't apply my self more, but I will always look back on Taft as one of the most important periods of my life. By the time I finished, I was no longer intimidated, I had tons of friends, I bettered my self, and ultimately I succeeded. Though Saint Michael's College wasn't my first choice, far from it actually, I don't believe I would have came here had Taft not been a part of my life. My so far great college career directly relates back to my time at Taft, which is yet another reason I appreciate it so much.

While we (the Taft student body) all have very strong feelings about the school, both positive and negative ones, we can certainly agree that it was an important time for all of us. I miss it for sure, but I couldn't be happier where I am today.

Oh yeah... Since this blog is supposed to be for Ireland and I've written 3 posts already but yet to step foot there, I'd suggest to keep following. While in Ireland, thats all the blog will be about, but when I'm not, it's gonna be a different story...