Cork, 5 days in

September 07, 2025

Cork, 5 days in

Good evening to any readers of this,

It's been 5 days, almost a week spent in Cork. At the time that I am writing this, it's Sunday night here (9:32 p.m.) and 4:32 p.m. back home. No more than 10 minutes ago, I got off the phone with my mom, where we've established a routine of her calling me around 4 p.m. her time to wish me goodnight. Being 5 hours ahead has proved a bit difficult in these early days-- I don't really have any friends out here yet (but I am trying to make some!), so by the time the people I know are awake, I've lived through much of my day. Then, I'm always going to bed when it's only starting to become evening-time back home. However, I keep my head held high and my prayers consistent, no matter how isolated it gets. That's all I can do right now, and I know that I've done well by myself before.

Cork + Accommodation

Where should I start with Cork? I'll keep it short, because I haven't seen much of it. To be honest, I heard several remarks about the beauty of Ireland before I came out here, and one bad comment about Cork specifically. One bad comment can snuff the light on what could be a very beautiful experience, yet I never let that comment do that for me. There are the drab parts of the city-- slightly dilapidated buildings here and there which need new paint coats, or maybe just brighter colors--, the neighborhoods of traditional UK-style homes placed side by side for a good few blocks, and then, the other-wordly campus that is Cork College, standing out with its medieval buildings. Where I live, drab buildings and high-volume traffic dominate the landscape, but it is convenient in terms of markets, food places, and walkability. It is also bordered by the River Lee, which cuts through most of the city. If you walk along the River Lee, you find yourself in the greenest parts of the city, and apparently, an "otter path." I WILL find an otter someday on my walks, mark my words.

When I arrived at my accommodation- a big, oddly-shaped, modern-architecture tower by the name of Crow's Nest, I did not think "good," or "bad." I thought, wow, I'm really here after spending so much time scouting my apartment out via pictures on Google. It's like I am living in a block from a Tetris game. I am grateful for the layout of my apartment; I live in my own bedroom and bathroom, double bed suite. I share a kitchen with 3 other roommates who I've not yet encountered, presumably because I requested to be situated with quiet individuals. The kitchen is conjoined with the shared communal area that none of us have touched. The kitchen area is equipped with a dishwasher and fridge that blend into the cupboards and cabinets (guess who just found the dish washer today! It's because I don't like snooping), a microwave, a percolater (which I use religiously), a nice electric stove, a traditional stainless steel sink, and plenty of cabinet spaces to hide your food stash in. The communal area has a bright green couch and colored chairs around a small dining table, a stark contrast to the otherwise predominant grey schemes of the place. I am not a fan of modern interior design, and most times I loathe it. But when faced with an unfamiliar city that I need to attend school in, I will make-do with whatever I am given. Crow's Nest actually has a cafe at the street level that serves iced drinks, so I dispelled the myth of Europe/UK not having iced drinks (particularly coffee) immediately. I think rural Scotland misled me, there, and instilled an unnecessary fear that I wouldn't have access to ice. Thanks, Scotland!

All comments about the modernity of my accommodation aside, I like the view from my room. It's most enjoyable at night and on rainy days-- I love to look out the window with a cup of tea and indulge in hobbies like sketching, writing, and reading. At night, I see the sparkling lights of the city center (centre) in the near horizon, reminding me of overnight trips to Pittsburgh with my mom from many years ago, and how we'd always adore the lights of cities after dark.

Campus

By my second day out here, I resolved to actually endure the 15-minute walk to campus and see what I was really here for. Upon stepping foot through the archway of Cork College, I beelined for the most famous building of them all.

Do I know the actual name of this building? No, so we're going to call it the Main Medieval Building. MMB. M&M. The M&M is constructed of Cork white limestone (per the embedded signs within the archway). Is it actually medieval? No, Cork is 180 years old this year, but they call this medieval architecture. I'm thoroughly impressed by the presence this building holds-- it nearly brought me to tears when I sat down across from it, realizing that my academic efforts had led to this moment. Through my strenuous attempts to be a globally-educated student, I landed in this place that defines the aesthetics of academia, and has the background to uphold it. It's a close competitor for the beauty that the University of Otago has; I'm still trying to decide which campus has more buildings to match their centerpieces. I think, by a close call, Otago has more. That doesn't take away from the historical air that Cork College has, though. Like Otago, it exudes historical importance, so much so that I can envision the 19th-century students who walked these pathways before me. Their superstitions carried through centuries, too-- as I was taking in the beauty, I heard of the long-held belief that if you step on any of the grass in the lawns situated in front of this building, you will fail your exams. Only grad students dare to, as they no longer have exams holding them back from getting the perfect portrait with their degrees.

Aside from the famous centerpiece, there is also an early 19th-century chapel that only recently finished construction (multiple generations of artists implemented religious pieces in its stained glass windows), a modern library, and then some more utilitarian-looking buildings off to the sides. Here and there, the stone architecture reappears, but it is few amongst the modern additions. The modern buildings are sheltered by trees that must be hundreds of years old due to the unimaginable thicknesses of their trunks and considerable heights. It's beautiful that they remained on campus for all this time, like the primitive guardians of that piece of land.

So far, my favorite buildings are the M&M, the Boone Library, and the President's Garden. Wherever there is nature or significant amounts of books, I am most content to study there.

P.S. - the photos say "live" because I am writing this from my desktop, and I don't want to have to extract the pictures from my iCloud piece by piece, so I just screenshot them... sorry if you've been misled to think they are actually live photos!

Me, recently

I decided to write this blog on a day that I finally felt like I had something to talk about. My first week has been a compilation of fragments of special moments. Take me admitting that I about cried over the M&M building, for example. I gather many little moments like that as inspiration to write. I know that another special moment was my hearing "Wild Horses" by The Rolling Stones (and "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac) -- two songs very special to me-- over the radio in the Devere Hall building. Two pieces of my soul in a space so unfamiliar, so new, and for the time being, very lonely. I take those reassurances as signs to keep going, to keep hope that this is really a special time for me and I have a purpose, a place here. For a reference that Wild Horses is special to me, I'm adding in the photo of my literal tattoo of the song.

More than ever, I've felt close to God, listening closely for the guidance that I need to get through this transformative period of my life. I know I've done things like this before, like New Zealand, so I know I can get through it. But the hardest part is facing that loneliness and being away from my loved ones a second time around. That difficulty is not acknowledged very often, and long ago I mentioned that nobody ever talks about the in-between of "big adventures," where the protagonist overcomes homesickness, fears of the unknown, and how they remind themselves of their purpose. Or something along those lines. But I trust that it will get easier.

I knew that I was being watched over by an angel when the sun shone directly on me in the Honan Chapel, through this glass window, while the rest of the chapel remained dim.

I felt safe today, sitting in Fitzgerald's Park on a bench by myself, basking in the sun and listening to music while children rode their bikes side by side from across the pond.

I felt encouraged when I heard a girl performing "The Climb" by Miley Cyrus live, and very beautifully. These moments bring me peace and remind me that no matter how alone I feel, there's still happiness to find around me, and everyone has felt the way that I feel now at some point. Yet, there the people were, dancing in the field in front of the stage that the singer was on. There they were, sketching by the pond, sitting by themselves on the bench for a moment of solitude, walking their dog by the River Lee, all finding peace exactly where they were in that sliver of time. I can do that, too, if I keep looking for it in the little things around me.