Insight into: St Patrick's Day in Newfoundland

O'Reilly's Pub gets in St Patrick's Day spirit.

St Patrick’s Day is celebrated around the world as a day where everyone can pretend to be Irish, but for an island off the coast of Mainland Canada, it has a very special meaning. Since the 17^th century, thousands of Irish Emigrants have arrived in Newfoundland, setting up fishing and farming communities around the island, which is known as the Irish Loop. The Irish connection is so important to Newfoundland, that it is one of only two places outside of Ireland that celebrates St Patrick’s Day as a public holiday.

Newfoundland’s capital, St John’s, is laden with Irish pubs, but one of the most popular is O’Reilly’s, which was full of people dressed in green and wearing leprechaun hats. On stage was a Newfoundland folk singer, blasting out songs based in Newfoundland, but inspired by Ireland. 

Sitting in a booth enjoying their Irish coffees and breakfast beers were married couples Francis Corrigan, Sylvia Corrigan, Bill Stephenson and Rose Stephenson.  The group, from the Irish Loop, have roots in Wexford and Waterford and say they come out every St Patrick’s Day to celebrate their heritage. They even got to visit Ireland two years ago, something many Newfoundlanders want to do. Francis says that they loved their two-week break, which was their first time in Ireland.

“It was wonderful. We went from Dublin to Galway and then we went around the coast. I’ve never seen so many sheep in my life.  We really enjoyed Galway and the scenes in Dungarvan were beautiful.  We were in Galway for Halloween though and we got egged by a bunch of students.

“The only thing was we went searching for old Ireland, and we didn’t really find it.”

Despite not finding the old fashioned Ireland they were expecting, they couples say that they keep up the Irish traditions in Newfoundland. Francis and Sylvia were also getting ready for perform on stage later on.

“I’ll be singing ‘The Fields of Athenry’ and Sylvia will be singing ‘The Spinning Wheel’. We like to keep up the Irish feel. At home we have a kitchen garden as well. The first Irish that came here, I think the fished out of necessity, but farmed out of love.

“Our son is in his thirties now and he loves the Irish two-step and traditional Irish music. Irish traditions are just so engrained in Newfoundland society and culture. There’s no fear of Irish culture dying out over here. We won’t let it.”

 Francis Corrigan, Sylvia Corrigan, Rose Stephenson
 and Bill Stephenson enjoy a few drinks.

 Also out celebrating were Genie Power and Judy Dawe from Torbay, who were wearing green glow sticks shaped into glasses. Both Genie and Judy have Irish heritage, but neither are sure what part of Ireland their forefathers came from.

Genie says that the week before St Patrick’s Day the schools, shops and pubs are decked full of leprechauns and shamrocks.

“I brought my grandson to his elementary school and the teachers were all wearing green and had big green hats on. [Irish singer] Fergus O’Brien was playing there for a little while as well. St John’s goes all out for Paddy’s Day.”

Judy, whose maiden name is Eustace, will be visiting Ireland next year and is looking forward to touring the country.

“I hear there’s a  Eustace Street in Templebar, so I can’t wait to see that. I will be taking pictures of everything to do with my namesake.  I hear Templebar is the really Irish part of Ireland with all the traditional pubs. I’m so excited. I’m coming over boys. Get ready.”

Genie Power and Judy Dawe enjoy Paddy's Day.

Throughout the day, O’Reilly’s promoter and former radio DJ, Bill Gregory was working in O’Reilly’s to make sure everyone was having a good time. Bill, like nearly 60per cent of the island, has Irish heritage, which he wants to explore with his father.

“My father is always talking about visiting Ireland and seeing where we came from, so I said we should do it sooner rather than later. We have roots in Waterford, so that would definitely be a place we’d have to visit. The amount of Newfoundlanders visiting Ireland is nuts. I was there in 1998 as well.”

Bill also said that if the next generation of Irish emigrants fleeing Ireland’s economic woes would be more than welcome in Newfoundland.

“There is a huge connection between Newfoundland and Ireland. We know that a lot of newer emigrants will want to go to major centres like Toronto and Quebec, but there is so much more to Canada than those places.

“It would be nice to see the Irish emigrants coming here. We would welcome them with opens arms and we know that they would settle in just fine here.”

Bill added that St Patrick’s Day is a huge event for O’Reilly’s pub, which is he says is the epicentre for Irish entertainment on the island.

“People from all over the island come here every year. It’s like Christmas for so many people. It gives them a chance to celebrate their heritage. The people here are fiercely patriotic.”

Bill Gregory celebrates Paddy's Day.

In the same way that many people visit Ireland visit Ireland for St Patrick’s Day,  people from across Canada also visit Newfoundland. Pam Mackay from Manatoba and Lyn Duchesney from Cape Breton came to Newfoundland pub, Shamrock City, for the celebrations. Lyn said that they both love Irish culture and would love to visit Ireland.

“We both would absolutely love to visit Ireland. We just love the culture and the music. We want to go there within the next two years. I expect when we get there we’ will be greeted by green fields, fantastic music, friendly people and lots of horses.

“It would just be like Newfoundland, really.”

Pam Mackay and Lyn Duchesney enjoy Shamrock City.

Parts of this article were published in the 'Irish Independent' on 18/08/2011.

Insight into: St Patrick's Day in Newfoundland

Insight into: Scientology in Ireland

It's a dreary Saturday morning and I was just buzzed into the Church of Scientology in Dublin. I'm physically shaking after the stories I've been told outside by former scientologist, Peter Griffiths. He tells me that they call all journalists `merchants of chaos', and make up rumours about those that write negative stories about their `Religion'. Today probably wasn't the best day to be wearing my Journalism and New Media class hoody. I could picture naive people being led up these stairs by scientologists to complete their free personality test, the first step in joining the church, which is widely regarded as a dangerous cult. Next thing I heard a voice from the top of the stairs boom down at me: "Stop, stay there. I saw you outside with the protestors."

Earlier that morning I head met with members of Anonymous, a group who make it their mission to warn people of the dangers of Scientology. After seven years as a Scientologist, Peter is now more than aware of the true nature of the group. Sitting on a chair right across the street from the Church, Peter tells me that his brother has been a Scientologist for the past 20 years and, by rule of the Church, is not permitted to communicate with him.

"When I left staff I got declared a suppressive person, which in Scientology is the worst thing you can be. It means you are anti-scientology, so there must be something wrong with you. The reality is that anyone who leaves the church and speaks out against the Church is called a suppressive person. Psychiatry is called a suppressive group. Medicine is a suppressive group. The French Judicial system will undoubtedly be dubbed suppressive, because they're on trial in France."

Despite the Church's new opinion on Peter, his brother is still planning to meet him this September. Peter admits that he does try and talk his brother out of the religion, but claims you cannot talk a person out of Scientology.

"You can never convince them that you're right and they're wrong. You ask them to honestly look at what they have observed in Scientology and do they actually see that anyone has these powers that they are supposed to have, like an improved memory.

"In fact, one thing you are supposed to do if you take part in the Scientology Dianetics course is stop wearing glasses. If you take a look it the Scientology office, you will see that most of the wear glasses. It's just crazy." At this point, Peter noticed a number of Scientologists staring out the window at us, including the woman who I would later encounter. While I got nervous, because of all the stories I have heard, the protestors waved, many of them with their identities safe and secure behind V for Vendetta masks. "Look at them Scilons staring down at us. That's just a nickname we have for the Scientologists. We also call them Ronbots and Rondroids [after Scientology creator, L. Ron Hubbard]. They probably don't even know we give them nicknames." After the Scientologists got back to their day's activities, Peter told me about his exit from the Church of Scientology.

"I was an active Scientologist for seven years and then another 13 years went by where I didn't actively participate in any Scientology, but I still thought that they were the good guys.

"Then a friend of mine came to a protest outside the Church in 2008. I asked him why he was doing that because they are the good guys. He said that they are not the good guys and told me to go online and see for myself. I started to do that and found out that all the things that I thought were true about Scientology and L. Ron Hubbard were all lies."

The Anonymous group come equipped to every protest with some of the very equipment Scientologists use to lure in naive candidates. One such gadget is the Electrometer, which looks like a device from an early episode of Doctor Who. Peter instructed me to sit down in front of the device and hold onto two grips, which resembles tin cans, which were connected to the Electrometer by crocodile clips. When the machine was turned on, Peter pinched me on my right arm, and the meter jumped forward, then settled down again.

I was then instructed to think about being pinched, which led to the meter jumping again.

"Scientologists prey on peoples' emotions. During a stress test the Scientologist asks `what were you thinking of?' and the candidate says `my dead father' and starts crying and they have yet another member to get cash out of."

At this point, I think it's fair to get the right of reply from the scientologists, after all, once a month Anonymous get all the attention.

So, I'm buzzed in, shaking and climbing up the steps when a short, angry lady calls down to me: "Stop, stay there. I saw you outside with the protestors." It is very clear I have already gotten on the wrong side of Scientologists. I start to go on the charm offensive, saying I got their side of the story and would like get theirs. She makes a scowling face at me and tells me that the PR man is out and will not be back for the day. She does, however, give me a Dianetics leaflet with the contact number, before telling me to get out. I am later told that this individual is a member of the Sea Org, an international group of leading Scientologists that devote their lives to their religion.

On my way back, I walk by the protestors and thank them. Peter shakes my hand and says: "Scientology is on its way out. People are realising it's a very dangerous cult, and it's only a matter of time before the whole thing falls apart." For more information on Anonymous visit: www.anoneire.ning.com

Insight into: Scientology in Ireland

Insight into: Corrective Eye Surgery

For as long as I can remember, I have either been wearing glasses or contact lenses. I’m told that I was bespectacled since the age of two. Without the aid of lenses, I wouldn’t be able to make out faces or shapes, let alone letters or numbers. I’m told I had a prescription of minus 15, which is very close to legally blind. At parties, my glasses would be passed around like some drug out of ‘That 70s Show’. Recently, I decided to make a change. I was sick of being blind. I decided to take the leap and get laser eye surgery.

In September, I took the trek up to Dublin to see how soon I could get the surgery done. Imagine my disappointment when I was told my eyesight was too bad to get normal, run-of-the-mill laser surgery. I was told I would have to get phakic lens implants into my eyes, which would have to be clipped in with microscopic metal clips. After days of contemplating it and even looking up the surgery on youtube to see how bad it is, I decided to take the leap and get it done. Anything would be better than having this kind of eyesight for the rest of my life.

It took the lenses that they would put inside my eyes eight weeks to be made and delivered, so for the last two weeks of the semester one I wasn’t allowed to wear contacts, which I hated having to do. Let me just tell you how much I hate my glasses. They were thinned down as much as they can be and they still look like the bottom of milk bottoms. When I was in national school, my blonde hair didn’t help matters and I gained the nickname the Milkybar Kid, even if I thought I looked more like that kid from Jerry Maguire, if I do say so myself. Last Halloween I stirred things up by donning a cowboy outfit and packets of the white chocolate, just to have a laugh. I started using contacts when I was 15 and never looked back.

Three days before Christmas, I packed my bags to get my right eye done in the Mater Private Hospital. I was under the care of Professor Michael O’Keefe, who has many articles on the internet about eye care and who is regarded internationally as one of the best. I had to pack a nightgown and slippers, as I would be recovering in the hospital for the afternoon, after I wake up from the anaesthetic. I was given more eye drops and forms to fill out than I could count, but following that, I was given my hospital gown and wheeled into the anaesthetic room. After a few minutes of nervous waiting, the nurse put those curious sticky pads on my chest and connected my to a monitor, where I had a good look at my heart rate, naturally not having a clue what it meant.

Then came the nasty little needle the nurse stuck in my hand, so that the other syringes that would undoubtedly follow could just attach onto. The anaesthetist then stuck in an injection to make me happy. It worked. Last thing I remember before going off to the land of sleep is talking utter rubbish about how much I love college and how I’d been having a rough time lately. I told that poor nurse more gossip and feelings than I would tell good friends. I would imagine she was delighted when she could knock me out with the general anaesthetic. Then I fell into a deep sleep.

I woke up a few hours later in the recovery room. The first thing I noticed was the strange feeling in my right eye. It was covered in a few layers of gauze and what felt like anti-bacterial goop. I kept constantly waking up and falling asleep and continued to talk rubbish until I was given tea, toast and a new batch of eyedrops. I was then wheeled upstairs to the eyecare part of the hospital where the bandage was taken off and to my surprise, I could actually see. There were even more drops put in my eye and it was examined. The doctor seemed very happy with the progress, before asking me to read down the dreaded optometrist’s chart. Without any lenses, normally all I could see was a white board; I wouldn’t have even been able to see the outline of the letters. I was overwhelmed to be able to even see the letters, let alone make it down as far as the fourth last line on a very long chart. Who would have ever imagine reading letters would be such a huge novelty?

So, with stitches in my eye and enough eye drops to last me a long time I went home. Two weeks later I returned to get the left eye done, which was a very similar experience. The help and support offered by all the staff in the Mater Private Hospital was fantastic. It’s amazing how calm I remained during the time I spent there. I cannot thank them enough for what they have done for me and how much they have changed my life.

At the time I am writing this, I have a few more visits to the hospital ahead of me, mostly just check-ups, but also to get these pesky stitches out of my eye, but I’m looking forward to it. The days of me being blind and having my eyesight restrict what I do are over. I could not recommend this surgery or the Mater private enough for what they have done. Have no fear of the surgery, just do it and don’t look back. I know I won’t.

Insight into: Corrective Eye Surgery

Insight into: Fameseeking

FOR ten years, a certain show has caused infinite controversy. It has created stars and ruined people’s lives. It gave us all an insight into the mindset of the craziest people in Britain.Now, that show has been put down.That show is Big Brother, and with only one year left to go there was only one thing to do to see how these eccentric personalities are really picked: Audition for the most hated show on television.
The auditions were only starting up when my friend Tighearnan and I meandered into the RDS. We waited in the queue, along with former Big Brother tartlet, Noirin, who seemed to take a shining to yours truly. When the photographers wanted picture, she grabbed on to me and another hapless loser and posed. She then managed to trip on top of me. For the duration of my time with the reality TV loser, I couldn’t help but think of the amount of magazine I saw her nude in. Classy bird, our Noirin.
After around half an hour in the queue, Tig and I begun our team building exericises. We were split into two teams and had to complete a number of harmless tasks, like over-under and passing the balls without the use of our hands. However, the losing team had to complete an embarrassing forfeit, like pretend to be a farm animal or do the Single Ladies dance, glee style.
After this, the real work began. We were split into groups of eight and given a partner. We had to get as much info from the person about themselves and then tell it to the group. I was paired with Becky, a 22-year-old Airport Security worker from Ballymun, who used to work in Mountjoy with her twin sister, who also tagged along to the auditions. From then, we had to rank ourselves in how much we deserve to get on the show. I told the group about my encounter with the scientologists, my recent break-up and all those interesting things about my life. I managed to come second in the group, which I’m not sure is a good thing.
Following this, came the difficult dealings. We had to pick two people from the group to be ‘evicted’ from the auditions. We chose a loud-mouth woman, who cheated on her fiancé of six years with his best friend and a guy who was barely able to speak and was shaking quite a lot. The motor mouth woman was not impressed and began to say how we were all boring and she was the star. However, it was all a big joke. The skank and the quiet guy were still in with a show of being a Big Brother 11 housemate.
Then came the news of who, if any, progressed to round 2. This was decided by one of the producers, who would give a stamp on the person’s hand, which featured the infamous Big Brother Eye. So as the stamp came out, we all had to stick our wrists out in front of us. I found myself being nervous. I really wanted to see what was up next, behind that mysterious black curtain, where the successful candidates were gathering. So next thing people were getting stamped and then wham; a big eye stamp appeared on my hand. I was though round one, but unfortunately for Tighearnan, the day was done. The only other successful candidates from our line was the cheating loud-mouth and a 23-year-old devout Christian virgin, who had never been kissed, which leads me to ask what the hell is wrong with me?
So then, the three of us were rushed behind the black curtain of mystery. There we faced round 2: a seven-page questionnaire of extremely personal information and a contract to sell our rights away. I read through the contract which stated that we could not hold liable for embarrassment and they could use our character. My journalistic integrity signed my life away to Endemol UK and Channel 4.
Next came the questionnaire, which such gems as ‘where’s the strangest place you had sex?’, ‘what do you not want to talk about today?’ and ‘what’s the biggest lie you ever told?’ I was honest and filled out the form like I would any legitimate survey. A producer read through it, which would then told me if I was abnormal enough to go on to round three. She gave me the thumbs up and I was rushed upstairs to wait for a video interview in a mock up diary room.
Another producer led me into the room, where a bog-standard seat, black curtains, a big camera and a pleasant woman met me. She asked me about my answers to the questionnaire, and I answered her as humorously and eccentrically as I could.
After this I was led to yet another waiting area. I then met the stereotypical English producer I was expecting. He thanked me for coming, but said that it was the end of the road for me. I breathed a little sigh of relief, I may be odd, but at least I’m not that odd.
So, come Summertime, when Davina McCall is ushering in the last batch of wannabees, I’m hoping a little Irish Christian virgin goes in there. I have no idea how far he got, but he seemed like an interesting and friendly young fella, who was actually genuinely interested in going onto the show, and not just taking the proverbial, like Tighearnan and I. However, for her own sake, I hope the cheater is kept away from that house. She would be eaten alive by crowds baying for her blood, and, frankly, maybe she deserves it. I find the fact that she tried to use her infidelity as a springboard to become a z-list celebrity absolutely despicable. Imagine how crap that guy would feel, watching his ex boasting about that on international TV.
Nevertheless, whether you loved or hated Big Brother, this time next year it will be but a distant memory, to be replaced, undoubtedly, by another reality show. So, I may not be going into the most infamous house in Britain, but I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people ready to humiliate themselves for the nation’s amusement before the house closes their doors for good.

Insight into: Fameseeking

Insight into: First year in College

This time last year, I was stuck in Limbo; dangling somewhere between the boring world of secondary school and the new and exciting world of college life. Twelve months later, and although College life isn’t exactly new, it is just as exciting.

For me, I had no problems adapting to College life, but I know people who openly admit to crying their eyes out on their first night away from home. Every single one of them is now in love with UL, and more than likely cried on their last night.

For the first three weeks, I went on a bit of a bender. I went out every night with my friends from home, spend an extortionate amount of money of booze and practically lived in The Lodge nightclub. After a few weeks though, my funds were low and the workload was steadily increasing. I decided to cop on a knuckle down, and was very happy with the results I received at Christmas for putting that effort in.

On the academic side of things, my year as a Journalism and New Media Student has been one of the most interesting years of my life. My course is perfect for what I want to do in life. We take part in mock press conferences, learn Gregg Shorthand and take part in newsroom simulations, where we see if we can handle the pressure of working in a newsroom when a breaking story comes to light. All the lecturers are friendly and very approachable too.

One important lesson that I have learned in College, is to keep up with assignments and not to leave them all until the last minute. Last year, I had three 2,000 word assignments to be in on the same week. Naturally, being the carefree College Student, I kept pushing them back until I ended up doing three all-nighters in one week. I wasn’t the only one though. Most of the class ended up in the same predicament. Save a lot of hardship and do them as soon as you can. That’s one I learned the hard way.

One of the most important pieces of advice I can give is to get involved in College life. If the college you are going to has lots of clubs and societies, join the ones you have most interest in. If you really enjoy a club or society, then try and get elected onto its committee. I am the PRO for ULTV, the media production society in UL and I have made some great friends in it as well as making college a more interesting place for other students.

When going for a night out, don’t go to the same pubs or clubs all the time. There is plenty of choice around cities and larger towns. In Limerick there are pubs and clubs that cater for dance music, ArtCollege folk, LGBT and rock fanatics, so there should be enough to meet the needs of any student.

But once the pubs and clubs are closed, there is nothing more annoying for the poor students that have to stay at home, than hearing drunken people screaming and singing on their way home, especially if that student is on his third all-nighter of the week.

No matter where you go to college or whatever course you do, get involved in College life and make a whole batch of new friends. It will be the best few years of your life. Make the most of them.

As printed in the Star College Guide 2010.

Insight into: First year in College