Genetics & Giants

My father's in my fingers, but my mother's in my palms.
I lift them up and look at them with pleasure -
I know my parents made me by my hands.

- From "Gentics" by Sinéad Morrissey

Our morning correspondent is Gabrielle Belli:

This morning started off very relaxed. People wandered into the kitchen every ten minutes or so to grab some breakfast and to watch the BBC morning show. As I made my way back to my room, I heard my family talking outside my window. Sonja and I had sprinted to meet them at their hotel last night, only to get there two minutes before everyone else. Lo and behold, we did the same thing this morning. My family was with us ALL DAY today!!! It was the best thing to be with them for a while.

Our first stop on the tour was Carrick-a-Rede, a National Trust Park with picturesque scenery and a little rope bridge. The walk to the bridge was a challenge in and of itself; there were danger signs in every direction. Despite this, Sarah decided to be a monkey and climb every surface she could possibly get to. Even the places she couldn’t readily reach. She always found a way to get to her destination.

Once we made our way through the obstacle course and reached the rope bridge, Jess started breaking down. Remembering what happened on a mere ferris wheel, we all started to give her pep talks to help her conquer her fear of heights. All of us made it across without any mental breakdowns, even though Sonja and my brother Patrick decided to violently bounce all the way across the bridge.

Our next stop was the famous Giant’s Causeway and, as with everything in the Irish culture, there are myths behind it. One states that two giants, the Irish Finn McCool and the Scots Fingal, who wanted to attack each other. McCool built a magnificent causeway of stepping stones to Scotland so they could fight. McCool was tired from hurling stones into the sea and was apprehensive about fighting the larger Fingal. McCool climbed in a baby’s carriage to fool the other giant. When Fingal looked into the carriage, he thought to himself, “If McCool’s baby is this big, how big is the giant I’m about to fight?” Frightened, Fingal ran back to Scotland and destroyed the path in the process. I don’t think any of us bought the story, but at the sight of the causeway, it seemed plausible. There is no way to explain the sheer beauty and awe of this unique site. I think we all wish we could go back to explore.

Much love, Gabrielle

Our afternoon correspondent is Jessica Coleman:

Hello! Hopefully this time I won’t have to rewrite every sentence in order to be politically correct. If that previous blog seemed a little boring and as though I didn’t write it at all, censorship might be the reason. I apologize. Today, hopefully, I will be able to write honestly and keep my own words.

Today was a wee bit eventful; it seems as though we packed a full week’s of sightseeing into one day. Of course, every day of the trip has overwhelmingly defied the number of hours in a day.

After marveling at the phenomenon of Giant’s Causeway, we piled into the bus and headed to Bushmill’s Distillery. Bushmill’s is the oldest whiskey manufacturer in Ireland and most likely in the rest of the world. It was granted permission in 1608 by James I of England (or James VI of Scotland) to brew whiskey. We toured the distillery, learning the most effective ways to brew whiskey. We were told of the different temperatures (notably measured in Celsius, rather than Fahrenheit), aging time and, most importantly, how to make whiskey in our own backyards (can’t wait to try that out!! Just messing). Much to our disappointment, the students were denied complimentary tasters of one of the renowned whiskeys.


After climbing many a stone and stair, the exhausted students begged to return home without visiting the castle, which was next on our tour. The teachers’ conniving arguments that it wouldn’t take too long and we could stay on the bus convinced us to go, and I firmly believe we are all thankful for that! We arrived at Dunluce Castle and our breath was stolen away by its majesty. The castle, built in the 13^th century, was a magnificent stone structure and mostly still intact. Although warned not to climb, we ignored this petty foreshadowing and climbed its walls. I should’ve heeded the warning, for I was stuck on a watchtower with no easy descent available. After much brooding, I was able to make it down to write this blog!

We looked out a window of the castle, saw a cave, and decided to go on an adventure. While exploring the pathway down to the cave, we reached its dark and eerie entrance. Once descending into its depths, we could see the ocean tide coming in at the mouth at the other end. The castle sits precariously atop cliffs above the cave. We took many silhouette pictures of the brave students who climbed to the base of the water and then went back to the bus to race home.

Thanks to Dr. Hughes’s willingness to share his connections and Ms. Duarte’s tireless efforts to enhance the literature experience of the trip, we met Sinéad Morrissey, an acclaimed Irish poet, in our kitchen. She opened our cynical teenage eyes to poetry. Her musical reading of her poem “Genetics” truly inspired us all. Even Pat commented on how beautiful the experience was. To read poetry is often cumbersome, but to hear it directly from the poet in the way she wished it to be read was an amazing experience. I wish I had time to capture her open and passionate personality, but as aforementioned, I have much other homework to do! Honestly, words cannot do justice to the surreal nature of this experience. To give you a wee taste, I will close with a couple of Sinéad Morrissey’s quotes from our interaction that moved me (her oration skills were incredible!).

If I get a good start [on a poem], I’m going to get a good end.

The importance of poetry is the marriage of form and content. First comes the idea, then you choose the form, and then you write it.

A poem is a journey to an end you don’t see coming.

PS. Hope all is well in the States! We miss you! –me!