A Place in This World, an American in Ireland #HogsAbroad in Ireland

This is me on a brisk and windy day at the Dingle Peninsula.

"Don’t wear sweats to class, the Irish students tend to dress much nicer than American students, and if you want to fit in make sure you bring nicer clothing.” This was one of the first emails I received upon being admitted to the University College Cork. My first thought was Dang, all I wear are sweats. I don’t want to pack nicer clothes. I did though, in fear of sticking out as an “American.”

I brought several pairs of jeans, some high heels, and a few dresses with me. I thought, “Surely, this will do. I’ll blend in among the Irish students.” Of course, I still managed to pack my beloved sweatpants and cropped sweaters.

This is Barley Cove near Mirzen Head which I got to see while on a field trip with USAC, the program I studied abroad with.

For the early start course, I always wore jeans and sweaters: what I considered to be my nicer wardrobe. This was wasted on the other students in my class, however, because they were all American. Maybe my born and raised Corkian teacher appreciated it though. 

Flash forward to the regular semester. I still continued to wear my nicer apparel, but now I was mixed in with thousands of Irish students. Let me tell you, I still stuck out like a sore thumb. There was no hiding my Americanness. The lack of makeup on my face was the first clue. I had holes in my jeans and wore flats. I carried a brightly colored backpack and wore a Patagonia for warmth. Sirens flashed above my head as I walked to class, “AMERICAN! AMERICAN!”

The Irish girls (most of them), always came to class face covered in makeup perfection, hair fixed, and skirts with tights and heels. My jeans and sweater, especially my Patagonia, were a dead giveaway that I wasn’t one of them. None of them seemed to carry book bags, just stylish purses.

The Irish guys all wore sweats and had the same haircut. Hair on the top, little to no hair on the bottom, quite the undercut. 

It seemed unfair how nicely the girls were dressing yet how relaxed and comfortable the guys were dressing in their sweatpants. It didn’t take long for me to decide that I really didn’t care how “American” I would look if I wore sweatpants to class.

Now I wear my sweatpants, crop top sweaters, and tennis shoes almost twice a week. Which I know screams “AMERICAN,” but I couldn’t care less. I mean, even with wearing what I considered to be nicer clothes, I still stuck out. I decided it was okay to look American because I am, in fact, an American.

I’ve started to embrace being an American in Ireland instead of trying to blend in with the Irish. I wear the clothes I want to wear because who cares? I still write the date at the top of the paper: month, day, year, and I google how to convert military time and grams to ounces daily.

When I came to Ireland, I didn’t come here to become Irish: I came here to learn about Ireland's culture and deep history. I’ve done just that. I’ve been to old gaols (jails), learned about their long fight for independence, their poets and writers who influenced history, and heard their wonderful songs.

When I leave Ireland, I won’t be any less American than when I came, but I will leave with a greater sense of the world and my place in it. Ireland has taught me so much about myself: how to be alone, how to be brave, and how to embrace who I am. I have two short months left in Ireland, but I’ll always remember my time well spent - the semester I studied abroad, endured the rain and saw the forty shades of Irish green.

This picture was taken at the top of Torc mountain in Killarney National Park on a field trip I took with my early start class.

--
English/Journalism major Maebrie Cruce is spending the fall term in Ireland through USAC, with the help of our Office of Study Abroad Scholarship.

Don't miss your opportunity to study or intern abroad! Start your search at http://studyabroad.uark.edu/search/