On Easter Monday, 1916, a small sect of the Irish population staged a militant revolt against English colonization and prejudicial rule. The band of militia, made up of politicians, radicals, poets, and ordinary citizens, stormed strategic points of British military control.

Once the group gained control of the General Post Office, a massive structure located in the heart of the city, they read a declaration of independence (“Easter Proclamation”) from the steps. For the first time in centuries, Ireland began life as an independent republic.

The rest, as the cliché goes, is history.

The movement was quickly squashed by the mighty British military, resulting in many lives being lost. The leaders were executed in the subsequent weeks, fuelling support for the republic.

Eventually, Ireland became an independent country – save, of course, for Northern Ireland – and the Easter Rising, as it became known, was forever etched into hearts and history books alike.

To celebrate the 90th anniversary of such a momentous occasion in Irish history – comparatively akin to the 4th of July in America – the entire city shut down.

So, after attending Easter service, my friends and I strolled down to the city centre, to the very spots of revolt, enjoying an all too rare sunny day.

We strained to watch an elaborate and parade and even get a glimpse President Mary McAleese. We watched as tanks and armoured cars, soldiers, and marching bands all paid unique tribute to the holiday.

Less “globalized” and epicurean than the St. Patrick’s Day parade, the Easter Rising celebration was more of a grateful homage to those who paid the blood sacrifice to a fledgling independent nation.

As we hummed along to Irish national tunes (mainly “Molly Malone”), we could not help but get swept along with the spirit of nationalism and pride of the Irish people. Were it not for the indepence movement 90 years ago, we realized, we would not be here today.

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Welcome to modern day Northern Ireland.

After a sleepy bus ride north, my class and I reached the city of Derry, in the county of Derry, formerly known as Londonderry. Like nearly all of Ireland, this city is steeped in history, dating all the way back to English plantations in the 17th century.

Today, the schism between loyalists (those still loyal to England) and nationalists (those who support a unified Ireland) is still present.

Throughout the city, we saw giant murals, painted along entire the sides of buildings. These man-made monuments were designed to either commemorate an event, remember those lost, or simply to make a profound statement. Many did all three.

We visited the site of a terrible travesty – where 13 people were gunned down by soldiers of the British army during a civil rights demonstration. An event now known as Bloody Sunday and made globally known in a song by U2.

Hundreds of citizens were gathered in a peaceful demonstration, intended to call attention to discrepancies of civil rights between the British and the Irish. However, after police forces perceived some sort of violent threat, they opened fire in a crowd of people.

This would be akin to the United States police force shooting up the non-violent Civil Rights protests of the 1960s.

Bullet holes have been left unchanged in the walls – an ever present reminder of what transpired.

This trip was rapidly shifting from smiling to somber. On to Belfast…

When we got into Belfast, we got the do’s and don’ts of the area. Unfortunately, there were far more “don’ts” than “do’s”.

Belfast was a city completely different than any other I have been in. It put me in mind of the footage you sometimes see of war-torn Eastern Europe; or even Berlin in the 1980s.

We walked alongside 30 foot barbed-wire fencing, planted directly through the center of the city. These “peace-walls” are raised nearly every year and houses literally lie against them.

Much like Derry, there were murals everywhere; letting you know exactly on which side of the split you stood. It was a strange site indeed, seeing the entire side of one building draped with a painting of the flag of England.

It is, however, a city struggling with both it’s heavy history and the push for European modernity. Tourism is beginning to increase and many feel financial success may be the last hope for peace.

In between juggling an internship and playing host, my friends and I did manage to find some good “craic”. From cramped dancing halls to antiquated Victorian public houses, I did my best to show my friends the variety of the Dublin night (and afternoon) life.

Some of the highlights:
-- A friend showing up in a newly adorned homemade mo-hawk.
-- Random run-ins with unexpected classmates (…I’m learning everyday that Dublin is a surprisingly small big-city)
-- The blurry glimpses of the St. Patrick’s Day Parade through the center of town
-- Introducing my lady friend to my boss (“Oh, you’re way too attractive to be with him…”) and promptly receiving an additional two days off.
-- The unspoken competition among everyone (!) to sport the most ridiculous "St. Patrick's" Day attire. Anything and everything was fair game.

The weather left much to be desired (40 degrees, rainy) but it couldn’t keep down our spirits (or the spirits themselves). Strolling through the streets of the Fair City, slurring through songs with close friends is a memory that is still vivid and one that I will hold dear.

On the whole, the festivities were a week-long celebration that the city geared up for and delivered. Dublin has experienced a fiscal (and emotional) boom in recent years and is striving to be a prominent, cosmopolitan European capitol. As a result, both the parade and the events leading up to the parade took on a "worldly" sense of importance. And, indeed, the city blossomed into a multicultural melting pot, all adorned in green.

Cheers!

“Stan” was brought in shortly after I arrived… a former Republic of Ireland player; I remember there was much to do in the press.

Sweden is a solid club that boasts more than one international star. They scheduled this friendly (that is, a scrimmage) as a tune up before upcoming World Cup play this summer in Germany. Last year, Ireland failed to qualify.

I am expecting a spirited Ireland effort, a young squad under a new manager, but to eventually fall to a stacked Swedish team.

But, as the Jameson began to effectively fight off the winter chill, and I allowed myself to get swept along in the cheers, chants, fanfare and pageantry, I noticed that the scrappy Irish squad was sticking around.

Eventually, Damien Duff struck a ball off a defender’s foot and behind the Swedish goalkeeper. 1-0 Ireland.

Ireland ended up winning 3-0 (or in Irish, “tree – nil”) and I ended up having a grand old time for myself… cheering and chanting with the supporters, and even making up some of my own.

While it was a mere friendly, to the 49,000 + people in attendance, it certainly felt of much more. And, for a few hours at least, I could say I was a part of the future of Ireland “football”.

Thursday: I took some time off from my internship and decided to meet my girlfriend in Brussels. She is studying abroad in Spain and we chose a time and place to meet… Brussels, Thursday.

So after a day of traveling and a night of sampling the many varieties of Belgian beer, we retired until…

Friday...

Upon more than one recommendation, mi novia and I took a bus tour of Brussels, and it was a pleasant treat – much like the chocolate.

But, by early afternoon, we were ready to visit a classmate studying nearby – in the world of canals and coffee shops.

Amsterdam.

After a sleepy train ride, and a whirlwind ride through the city via tram, we hit the town pretty hard.

And here is where the blog will get a little hazy… “When in Rome…”

Saturday/ Sunday...
I distinctly remember seeing the Heineken Brewery and the Van Gogh museum.

Classic, colorful paintings and free half-pints.

And I also remember seeing the red-light district… a trip in and of itself.

Little more than a few shady streets, it was not exactly what I was expecting.

Potential customers stroll down narrow alleyways lined with wide, open windows with red neon lights surrounding the windows.

(Closed windows means business is being transacted…)

Prostitutes can be seen in these windows, acting coy or employing little catcalls. Some pretend to idly chat on their cell phone or nonchalantly twirl their hair and blow bubbles with their gum.

My personal favorites were the ones who were blatantly talking to themselves, but still playing the “part”.

For some reason, they felt the need to pretend to be uninterested in customers to be effective. It was all very funny.

And despite their professions and brazen exhibitionism, they were also very camera shy.

Sorry, no pictures, Mom… Although, I did snag some of the city so look for those here soon.

All told, I had some fun while seeing some unique foreign culture. Amsterdam is a beautiful city… fantastic architecture and sprawling canals… modern and fast-paced transportation, and people bike Everywhere! … Must be all the coffee.

Thursday I head to the west side of Ireland to Galway and the Arran Islands… So check back for some new additions.

Cheers!

-brian h.

Store fronts were smashed, cars were burned. Debris and construction materials were turned into makeshift weapons, pelting the police force.

A morning paper captured a picture of a rioter hurling a wheelbarrow at a member of the gardai.

All told, 14 people were hospitalized, including six police; 41 people were arrested.

Thankfully, my family (who were in town for the week) and I were able to stay clear of the confusion.

However, some of my friends were in the area to do some shopping.

They described the atmosphere as confusing, even initially thinking the rioters were supporters of the Welsh rugby team, also in town for a match on Sunday.

While their shopping trip was less than satisfactory, they were happy just to be safe. A friend was even forced to stay in the basement of a shop while the rioters broke the store windows and looted.

As expected, reactions were mixed among the people there.

Many were shocked, saying this type of thing never happens – maybe in Belfast, but never in Dublin.

A local taxi driver told me it was the stupidest thing he has ever seen in his life.

While there may have been support for the Republican cause, there was little support for the violent behaviour - the worst the country has seen in 25 years. The destruction is expected to cost the city upwards of €10 million.

And all of this comes at a precarious time for the “Fair City”… St. Patrick’s Day, which is a huge event in the city, is just around the corner. Easter Sunday represents the 90th Anniversary of the 1916 Easter Rising and talks of a celebration have been vehemently discussed for weeks.

Now, talks are tense and fearful and it appears that peace between the North and the South has taken a fretful step backwards.

Currently, I am studying at the Dublin Business School in Ireland. The school is a fragmented campus with three separate buildings, all within the heart of the city. I share travel to school with well-to-do Dubliners, students, tourists, street performers; as well as countless cafes and pubs.

I was initially attracted to Dublin because I have some Irish roots. Also, the flight to Sydney would have been far too long and London would have been far too expensive… and I can only speak English with any sort of fluency, so that, too, narrowed it down. Plus the live music? The pints of Guinness? All set in what was being called a “friendly, clean New York”? I was there.

(By the way, did you know that Dublin has over 1,000 pubs? That means I could go to a new pub every night I am here… Just throwing that out there…)

As I write this, I have been here for a little over two weeks. And, for the most part, it has been as advertised, if not better. Dublin is probably closer to Boston than to New York City, an older, friendlier, sky-scraper-less Boston…let’s go with that.

I was also told to prepare for rain – that part is pretty much dead on. It is grey for most of the day, here. Days that do not rain are few and far between – and are celebrated. However, the weather has been much milder than I could expect Massachusetts and far less windy than off the banks of Hudson River at college in New York (and no snow to shovel!). And, if this is the only thing I have to complain about, I would say things are going pretty well.

I have already seen several castles, seemingly never-ending coastlines, green rolling hills, weathered statues, and many other ancient and historical things I simply could not see anywhere else (Guinness Brewery, anyone?).

Here’s a quick example:

Wednesday, classes ended at 1, so some friends and I skipped down to the aptly-named coastal town Sandycove. Once there, we walked along the shoreline, felt infinitely small along the rocky beaches, and even saw a few seals. They were happy to swim alongside the rocky walls; but I suspect they just expected a few fish to float there way and not due to the seal impressions we were doing.

(Educational fact: There are about 90 seals in the area and the locals expect those numbers to increase. With no natural predators, the seals are the top of the food chain, and not incidentally, the ire of many local fishermen. Moving on…)

That evening, I met some friends at a smaller, upscale pub outside Dublin. We enjoyed some traditional Irish music and some traditional Irish drink with some real-life Irish people – an experience like no other.

Traditional melodies laced the laughter as a violin flowed over our stamping feet and the thumping Bodhran drum; the euros in our pockets keeping time with the strumming guitars and plucky mandolin.

Everyone enjoyed their fare share of pints, smiling, joking, and laughing. It was simply a good time – “craic”, as it is referred to, here in Ireland.

OK, enough for now – I am getting thirsty.

Thanks again for reading.

Cheers!