Costume Partay

With a sunrise like this, it was easy to wake up this morning. Just had to throw this one on here too.

And now, our crazy costume party. A few questionables and unmentionables are not pictured. Below are only some of the honorable mentions. I am sad I missed Paul Hess though - he was some Monstors Inc., female monstor whose costume involved a very cool mask and some 5 pillows and lipstick and a special monster voice. But he took it off before the party even started because he had music ministry practice.

Hippie after a successful bob

Rob dressing up in a normal-guy costume as he often does to disguise his normal super-hero self.

Me (Alice or Heidi or something), Oebb train-conductor Phil, Hippie Jon and Vampire? Christy

Phil bobbing...and about to get dunked

Most of the LCI students dressed up like smurfs

Cate Donovon and Jerome share a moment

Amanda Keena as Snow White

Eva Piras and Liz de St. Auben

Katie and Mitch as Profs Siefert and Asci

Mary Manion and Annie Jacobs as Mensa workers - complete with simmels in the pocket!

Fr. Ron as Fr. Ron - monks don't need to dress up - and Mark Kalpakgian

Me and 'Prof. Siefert'

Cowabunga dudes - Breeanne Walsh as a very cool ninja turtle

Opera & Operation: Budapest

Caitlin and I went up to Vienna Friday night to see an opera. La Nozze di Figaro, the Marriage of Figaro! One of the best comedies, I am sure. Only 4 euros - FOUR EUROS - if you queue up hours ahead of time, and don't mind a nosebleed. Old and new meet in Vienna

Caitlin and I, waiting in line with the rest of the lowerclass opera-lovers.

I went outside to take pictures, Caitlin saving me a spot.

The beautiful Staatoperhause

When I came back in, the little old man would under no circumstances allow me to go back up to Caitlin....who was not hopelessly far up in line and worrying what the heck happened to me. But where there is a will, there is a way - if you are sneaky enough.

the two of us, or the reflections thereof.

That's me - at the VIENNA OPERA!!!!!

Opera boxes soon to be filled with upper class viennese peering down with their opera glasses.

Me, looking blurry and disheveled.

Caitlin, looking fabulous just in her element as always.

A magnificent operahouse. Just gorgeous. But they don't have the long metal window-shades that you can play with like NYC.

The cast was superb. Figaro was my favorite. Susanna was a great actress, although the Countess had arguably the better voice.

The standing room only - aka Nose-bleed section, for good reason - area. So long as you don't pass out (Caitlin!) from the heat of so many packed in like cattle, and from standing still for 4 hours, and being dehydrated, it is quite nice. No, really, it was brilliant, however built that in.

I think this a a great candid moment of one of the violinists. Carmen, I was reminded of your dad in the joviality of this violinist, even though I have never met him. It was awesome to think that your dad played here! Do you know which operas your dad played in? Carmen, someday I hope you get to tie your handkercheif to the rail to claim your spot at the Vienna opera too. It is not fair that I get to before you.

After the opera, it being after eleven, we cannot go home, no that would be too simple. Of course the last train to Gaming leaves Vienna as the opera is starting. So Caitlin and I planned to go to Estzergom, Hungary, arriving there in the morning. The third largest church, after Hagia Sophia and St. Peter's is there - some Marian basilica with a ridiculously long name. It also boasts the 3rd largest organ, Cardinal Mindzenty, a personal favorite, and THE largest one-piece painting in the world. After, we were intending to go to Budapest and explore for some 4 hours or so. Nice plan on paper. Everything looked smooth and easy. And practically free: theoretically our expenses would be less than 10 euros, food included.

So, we burned some time waiting for our 3 am train out of Wein Sudbahnhof. There was a wild concert going on in the Rathause, which, I believe, is the city hall. It looked pretty all lit up.

We happened upon soldiers keeping guard over a massive military fair that filled all of the museumsplatz. This little jet, called the Eurofighter typhoon, was a little confusing: it had flags from 6 not necessarily friendly countries. I guess the Brits made it and sold it to all the others.

e EYE. Viennese, I have decided, are just plain off their rockers when it comes to what constitutes a great piece of art sometimes. I am so sick of seeing Gustav Klimt's the Kiss plastered everywhere. At least with the Mona, it is a likeable eye-pleasing portrait, if disproportionate fame to actual artistic worth, in my lowly opinion, anyway.
This was really really topping them all though. It hung in the Wein Sudbahnhof, as you go up the uphill moving sidewalk that kept Caitlin and I amused from 1:30 to 2:45 am. It is straight out of starwars. I don't really know what it does. Actually, there are two of them. They look across each other into the other eye, so that you are afraid (or at least I was) that there might be a laser beam between them they sear through human flesh, or perhaps, like in the Never Ending story's Sphynx statue, and laser will come out and get you if you don't believe enough in yourself. They blink. They make a creepy rattlesnake noise. They hum so lightly you think it is all in your head. They send a shiver up your spine if you let it get to you.

We get off the train from Bratislava and step into Hungary. Where is Hungary? no-where. Literally, no where. We got off, and saw nothing but darkness all around, and Caitlin turned to me and said "Where are we?" a disconcerted tone. The train became to roar away, and I shouted back "Don't worry - I am sure the trainstation is just on the other side of the track." At that moment, the train came to and end, and left us, our scarves still blowing, taking all of our optimism with it. There was nothing there. Nothing. Stairs going to the other side. Blackness. A dilapidated dark roofless building that looks like it hasn't been used since world war two. Nothing at all. Not even signs. Not that signs woud've helped any.

The only three words I know in Hugarian, taught me by Lucy, a Hungarian student here at the LCI: the words for shoe, time, and nightingale. And it is not like German, where i can understand the gist of what is written, and about every 7th word spoken. I am completely clueless when it comes to Hungarian.

So here we are. 4 am. Darkness. Cold. Waiting for a train to take us to Estzergom that never came. We ended up getting on another train going back to the previous station, and then riding it back again just so we could keep warm and safe.

We didn't get to Esztergom, but we did make it to Budapest, by a sort of round-about way.

When all else fails, play rummy. We were sitting against what I thought was a wall, on these piles of newspapers that we intended later to wad up and make a huge mountainoud bed out of. So I had my back against the wall later, falling asleep, thinking about the EYES. And suddenly, I woke up, or mostly woke up, to feel the wall suddenly shoving itself into me. I felt like screaming, but instead, turned to Caitlin and said, in a matter-of-fact voice that surprised myself, "I think there is someone in the wall, and he is coming out." Then I jumped up and saw the man, for man it was indeed, emerge.

Caitlin catching some shut-eye on das zug.

Nuttella a la' Hungary: mogyoro'kre'm. Tradition! Tradition!

Skyline of Buda. St. Istvan's Basilika. Contains, I am told, the fist of St. Stephen...but we didn't go there.

A Byz Church in Budapest

That is all the pictures I took during a whole day in Hungary. There was just not that much that was pleasing to my eye, and I don't take National Geographic pictures. I take pictures that I like to look at; things that I want to remember. All the Churches were locked or charged you or turned into shady Italian mafia restaurants. All of the streets were dirty. They buildings looked like Vienna - indeed it used to be called the Vienna of the East, when the Hapsbourgs were still in power. It seemed to me like a cross between Vienna and Istanbul or some other Turkish city. There seemed to be a war of religions going on, and I don't think the Catholics are winning. Transportation system is messy...and scary....I will leave it at that for now - some stories are best left untold until the proper time. It has seen better days, I am sure. Several different internet reviews described it as a sleepy city - I would describe it as more an apathetic city. It didn't seem friendly at all. Granted, it is still shaking off the communism that reigned there until only a dozen years ago or so.

Perhaps, on a warm sunny day, with a friend who could speak Hungarian, and after a night's rest, I might have a different opinion of the city. But I will never know, because I never want to go back. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the day - I had a great travelling companion, nutella, and a Father in Heaven taking care of us, so you could have put me down on just about any place on earth and I could have enjoyed the day. I am just saying that my impression of the city was generally not favorable.

I have decided this is one bit of modern technology that I really like. Windpower what-you-may-call-ems. They are actually beautiful, to me. Slowly spinning, catching the wind and turning it into light in someone's home. They stand like watchmen across the fields.

Hungary is flying by. Europe is flying by. The semester is flying by. And I am just trying hard to take it all in.

Sunset on the 'winged watchmen' of modern times.

The infinity of mirrors: a phenomenon in every train car.

Gather round the Piano

Parents week social: good food, good music, good company. Andrea playing beautifully
Enjoying cider and scones and good company.

Liz, Christy and Caitlin.
Laura, my roomie, and her parents.
Vince, always the star of the show

Piano Man!
Christi, if you take my picture, I am going to beat you with my stick!

Paul Hess showcasing his mad piano skills.

Ten-day break part II

This is as much for my own recollection as for anyone's benefit.

I don't want to forget. We started walking on Thursday night around 6. We four directed ourselves toward Ireland, via France. We had some things planned out, but generally that which we planned fell through due to the ridiculous French train system which not even the French understand. We intended to spend the first night on the train, which we did, though in the bike rack for most of it, rather than the cars (and still charges reservation fees, of course!) where we played MASH and Rummy and talked. Saturday morning we were in Paris, and held there for a while as we tried to figure out the best alternatives to previously planned routes. We ended up in Cherbourg, a coastal town in Normandy by evening, said a memorare before leaving the trainstation that we would be taken care of - without a reservation and knowing there to be no hostels in the town, we fully expected to be spending the night under a bridge. We walked out the door, across the street, into the first hotel we saw, Hotel de la Gare, and walked in to find the owner just waiting for us, the only room in the hotel left being a four bedroom at hostel prices.

The next day, a saturday, we explored Cherbourg. ("Good morning, beautiful girls") Andrea and I hid our back packs in the eaves of the Ferryport station, because we didn't want to carry them around. We wandered and visited churches and tasted some french food, saw an Art museum and the local library. Mass at St. Trintite. And by evening we boarded the Ferry, The Oscar Wilde. It was much more like the Titanic, to me. Sunday afternoon we landed in Rosslare. Played on the beach. Sneaked four of us into quite nice hotel, and watched a chick-flick. They sang our theme-song for the whole trip: Living on A Prayer.

Monday, on a train to Kilkenny. Castles like weeds in the countryside out the window. Changed trains in Waterford (Jacob I kept seeing you singing Born to be Bachelor - I've come from the county Waterford, near the village of Tramore...), where we stopped a few hours and explored churches and bookstores (encounter with The Man in the Purple suit). In Kilkenny later that day we shopped, looked at castles and watched goldsmiths and met our Motor-mouth-O'Malley three times. Stayed that night in a real Castle in Jenkinstown. Pretty sweet.

Tuesday Headed for New Ross via train. Raining, hard (for the only time that we were in Ireland, which is a miracle in and of itself) Stopped again a bit in Waterford and revisited the bookstore. Arrived in New Ross, ate scones at a cafe, and was picked up by Brian, the owner of the hostel, who drove us the 3 km or so. Lovely little hostel. Fell in love with it and the area. Stayed there three days, soaking it up. Cooking, reading, doing laundry by hand, playing games, and going for walks in the country. Wednesday: toured New Ross's streets churches and church ruins, as well as the Dunbrody Famine ship.

Thursday took a bus ("A Bus!" .... I need to watch Anastasia, apparently) to the coastal town of Duncannon. Aimed to get to the famous Hook head lighthouse, but, though we could see it from there, 13 km away, there was no available transportation, so we were content to stay in Duncannon. Apparently it is one of the oldest lighthouses in the world, back when a lighthouse was a new idea. Started as a bonfire kept alive by monks on the point.

Friday, down to Rosslare again, to meet our ship and play on the beaches all day, since there is nothing else to do there. Sunset was one of the best I have ever seen.

Saturday, on the Ferry until 6:30 pm. Returned to our Hotel de la Gare, and the owner teased us, lent us the same room, and even threw is some ball-point pens to thank us for returning. HOT shower!

Sunday, Mass at St. Trinite again. On the train for home. Passed through Lisieux, just as the Beatification of Louis and Zelie Martin was ending. I was very dissapointed to have missed it by so small a margin. The French train system sucks. We remained on trains or in trainstations for the next 24 hours, missing class because trains ran late. But we made it back safe and sound and with a great and unforgetable experience to ponder for a lifetime.

So impressions of Ireland: 1) It is very small. I guess because everyone knows someone who is of Irish decent, it seems that Ireland should be bigger. It is not. It is about the same size as Austria, which is the same size as Maine, roughly. The towns are very small and village-like. Granted, we never left the counties of Waterford and Wexford, but towns that look like they ought to be very big on the map are not. Irish people are awesome, and very outgoing, very communal, and very Irish looking. I never saw any Irish dancing or much live music, unfortunately, because it is the off-tourist season, but I noticed in many church bulletins ceili dances and live music groups. Also, all the schools are private and parochial, with all the kids wearing uniforms. France is nice if you avoid touristy areas. The French people are much more friendly than I had been warned - maybe I had good luck. The French language is easy enough to understand when read, and completely hopeless to understand when spoken. Impossible. French bread is good but I honestly preferred the Irish buttermilk whole wheat soda bread. French people like ugly dogs.

These pictures are in reverse order, starting from the end of the trip. Still smiling after 22 hours of trains: Caitlin, Liz, and Whitney and Oscar - the backpacks who had a little French romance.
Lisieux basilica, from the zug. Just as the Beatification Mass was ending. So close and yet so far.
Nuttella Nutts.

A fort that looked like a giant sandcastle. Many naval battles have been fought in Cherbourg over time.




Liz finally had her Irish guiness, half a pint, although not exactly in Ireland (it was an Irish bar on the Ferry) and although the bar-tender had something against her. I don't like Guiness, so I had hard cider, which I love.

My main sustainence for ten days. I figured it out to e

I am sorry there are excessive amounts of picutres that are mostly the same, of this sunset. I was trying to immortalize a million-dollar sunset, and was getting frusrated at the results reflected by my camera, which just couldn't capture the spelndor.



Getting in a quick nap at the ferry station. Caitlin decided to be naughty at take a picture of me. I am probably drooling if you look close enough.

So, this was cool. Rocks in the making, i suppose. Some of the rocks on this part of the beach were rocks, and some of them looked just like rocks, but your feet sank into them - soft clay rolled up by the sea into balls. It was really confusing, and felt at first like something out of Narnia or Through the ooking glass or the Wixard of Oz or such.

A very large (dead) crustacean. That is no small rock he perches on.
Our ship coming into port - returning to fetch four Americans from Ireland.

Caitlin should know better to think that my armpit is going to smell any better than the fish when I have been depraved of a shower for three days!

I saw these starfish out on the rocks during the low tide, and waded out to get them. Later, I replaced them, and later Caitlin reported how she saw them being torn limb from limb by two seagulls. It made me very sad.

another picture of me feet.
lunch on the beach in Rosslare.

The ingedients for stuffed mushrooms was magically left by the Silent Germans Boys. I opened the fridge, saw cheese and bread and mushrooms and garlic and onions, and then started jumping up and down because I knew what could be done with that. We found that stuffed mushrooms do complement Irish Cream quite well.



Our Lady, Star of the Sea, pray for the wanderer, pray for me!

Me. Yes, I took a picture of my shadow. I know, I am a dork.
low tide waters and the cliffs.
This is what happens when you drive your car out on the beach at low tide, then busy yourself with fishing or swimming or what not.
My feet in some mud I found myself in. It actually I think was seagull crap, mostly, but I didn't realize I was in it until it was too late.
I realized in review that I took a lot of pictures of my feet. These were on barnacle-covered rocks it hurt a bit.

The tide is out.
This reminded me of our S. Pottawatomie Rd.

I think we need to make a sign like this to put over Andrew's door, huh, Mary?
It is documented that there are several hundred wrecked ships lying in the harbour at Duncannon. They either wrecked in storms or ran aground in the shallows or were captured and sunk by pirates who were pretty thick in the area.

Ten-day Break, Part I

At the Fort at Duncannon.
Stumbled onto a filming site for the Count of Monte Christo. Did you know part of it was filmed in Duncannon, Ireland? Now I have to watch it and look out for places I have been.
A friend I made, who lived on a cliff above the sea.

Playing a rowdy game of Jenga, and scaring the two German guys, sharing our hostel, into silence.

Three details you may not notice but tells a lot about our stay in the cottage: the (empty) nutella jar, the half-eaten milka bar, and the blazing fire in the woodstove. My evident impatience is also noticable, and probably as much a trademark of our trip. I don't know how the girls put up with me so charitably all the time.
Reading by the fire. Doesn't get much better. I read about as much as i was able to read all sumer: Chesterton's Orthodoxy, and Man's Search for Mmeaning, we read most of Northanger Abbey aloud, and might have finished except that it is still traveling on a train along with Liz's shoes. We spent a good bit of time in libraries and bookstores (where I encountered The Man in the Purple Suit - a story I shall tell on request). And I even had time to re-memorize Mythopoeia, which had slipped beyond recollection. It was so good.
The view out the bedroom window.

the driveway up to the hostel.

Sun setting on Ireland.
One of the parish churches of New Ross.

Andrew, check this out. I was on a ship! The Dunbrody Famine Ship. Okay, a lifesize replica. She carried many of the ancestors of Irish Americans across to New York during the potatoe famine. It was pretty harsh conditions below deck for the passengers. But the ship was a beauty.


Caitlin, about to take command. Caitlin sails a similar vessel with her dad and a whole crew in her spare time back home in New England.

Ruins of a Gothic Church in New Ross.

Caitlin stopping for a look at the creek as we walked to town one fine morning.
A view from our hostel.
Our lovely little cottage hostel, about a 3 km walk from town, owned by a pampering little old couple, Brian and Jenny. No hot water, but a fireplace made up for it by a hundred fold.

The hostel alarm cock.

A collection of the books that kept us company in front of the roaring fireplace. Made Irish Potatoe stew!
Our Castle Hostel
Caitlin about to pulverize me, and likewise me Caitlin. We weren't sure who was going to come out on top after the ten days together. We were sure we were going to kill each other by the end of ten days in such tight quarters, but we all came home probably even better friends than before!

A self-portrait of the man who owned the Castle hostel in Jenkinstown. I really liked the guy. He was a painter, a musician, and a sailor. And for goodness sake he owned a castle. He also had really good taste in music - I kept hearing bits of my favorite music of all time coming down from his tower that he lived in.
Pasta in the feast-hall, where previously had dined nobles on legs of mutton. Cheers.
Making Pasta in the Castle Kitchen.
A very old Gothic facade of a Church in Kilkenny.
Heartstrings.

I wanted to get this pipe for John, but it was sold.
Castle tops through the apple trees.
Rothe House in Kilkenny. I loved the Virginia creeper all over the tudor house.

I think there are like 28 windows on this magnificent tudor home! I am glad I don't have to wash them, but it sure is pretty.

A really cool chair.
Eating lunch under some fir trees. This is where we first encountered Motor-Mouth O'Malley, where he interupted our lunch for some 40 minutes of incessant talk about why Irishmen really are all drunkards like they say, and about the girls he met in bars, and how on earth could we like Gaming if it has only one bar and no gym? Quite a sweet-talker, to be sure! My favorite was when, in a tone of frusration, he asked us whether we were intending to be nuns, after thrice asking us out in a sly sort of way.
Castles are quite commonplace part of the scenery, we found. Any field might have the maginificent remains of a castle!
A rainbow! It was much more brilliant in real life.
Another castle, seen from the train.

Andrea and I, aka Emily and Jane. We decided we needed undercover names after our repeated stalking-like run-ins with a certain ' Motor-Mouth O' Malley'
Caitlin and Liz, aka Susan and Mary.

The sea at Roslare

My feet meet the Atlantic for the first time...and from the other side of the puddle, too!
I was so excited to see one of these train turn-tables. Like right out of Thomas the Tank Engine and Shining Time Station!

The room we had on the Ferry. It was quite an interesting experience. It was like this big theater room with no theatre, and extra space along the walls where people layed down and slept. We discovered blankets on the return journey - on the way out we froze.

The Oscar Wilde ferried us across the atlantic ocean from Cherbourg, in Northern France to the Southern tip of Ireland, Roslare Harbour. It was much closer to the Titanic, to me, than to my idea of a ferry. And it was cheaper than flying.
Sunrise from the tenth deck of a ferry, with nothing but the sea as far as I could see. I was in heaven!
Me, Liz and Caitlin watching the sailboats in the Cherbourg harbor
St. Trinite. We went to Mass twice there. It was built in 1480, if memory serves, after the inhabitants credited

I love it! I have completely lost myself to Gothic Architecture. I before found it hard and crude and course and cold. Now, I love it. The very stones cry out! I have a special weakness for Flying Butresses.
' She looks like Christine Tizides' I exclaimed when I saw this marble girl. Okay, so maybe not an exact likeness, but you see the resemblance?
A really cool Annunciation. I like it.
This one was especially intriguing. I think it may be from the Niebelengenlied. It was so so cool, the picture can in no way do it justice. It was huge and just drew you in. And it is not every day you see paintings of vikings.
I loved this piece, the lovely Margeurite from Faust. She was exquisite.

Liz and Andrea contemplating a mysterious painting.
Napoleon. Of course. He had a big nose. About the size of my head.
Again, Liz and Andrea contemplating beauty. The scultped beauty in the foreground was a sarcophagus for the artist's daughter, and so full of emotion, I was quite spellbound
St. Clemente, I think, in Cherbourg, France

We got this meringue at a little Festival de la Pain shoppe. We really had no idea what to do with it once we had it. But it was 90 euro cents, and all part of the French experience.

oops

I just accidentally posted my day in melk on our family blog rather than on my own. I have done that once before, but I am blonde, so it takes a while for me to learn. If you want to see it go to www.boogfamilyblog.blogspot.com.

Group Photo of my Gaming family!

This is everybody. All of the FUS students and faculty, and even the LCI students too.
I think if you click on the picture it gets bigger. It is kind of like a where's waldo, huh?
A few honorable mentions: Start with me, but only as a landmark. Next to me is our very cool - in more ways than one - RD Vince. To the Right of me are Liz Boylan and next to her Liz Conte. Dr. and Mrs. Minto (Intro to Scripture) are standing above me, and right above me is Fr. Seraphim (Civ I). The three nuns near me are Sr. Monica, Sr. Bonita, and Sr. Grace Anne. To her right, holding the little tikes are Dr. Cassidy (CMP) and Dr. and Mrs. Asci (Px Marriage). Our other very cool RD, Katie Hess is in the white vest. Okay, next locate Jerome. He is not hard to spot. Laying in front with all the Knights. Above his shoulder is my room-mate Laura, and going right from her are Christy, Andrea and Caitlin. Skip two people (not that anyone deserves skipping, but I can't name them all, for sake of time and space. You can see the Kalpakgian family, Mark & Nicki and Dominic and I don't know where my chum Aris got to. Going up from Mark's head, are Jake (dating my room-mate Amanda), and Lucy from Hungary. Next find the nun, and around her you can see my room-mate Amanda second to the left of her. Above Sr's head are Prof. Siefert (My favorite prof, for Philosphy of the Human Person), and Sr. Faustina and Fr. Brad. Prof. Herrera in the Yellow Jacket, Fr. Ron is the only other obvious priest on that side. Just a few more: Rob and Paul and Jon and Brendan and John Paul are in the back row on the right side. I could go on zig-zagging around the photo until I have pointed everyone out, but I better stop there.