the armagh examiner

2007-08-19T10:09:00.001-07:00

ARMAGH PROJECT 2007 WRAPS UP

FINAL PRESENTATION DRAWS PRIEST, ASTRONOMER, CITY COUNCILLORS
STUDENTS MAKE THEIR WAY HOME

THE ARMAGH PROJECT 2007 drew to a close on Thursday August 16th with a final presentation of the work so-far completed and a sneak preview of the still-in-progress website, inamagh.net. The presentation, held upstairs at the Amma Centre, was attended by students, faculty, and various members of the community.

Director Andy Ciofalo started off the proceedings with some opening remarks, piling thanks on the Amma Centre, the Armagh City Hostel, and the welcoming locals. "From my point of view," Ciofalo said, "This has been an excellent program."

Irish culture professor Margaret McAliskey, described by Ciofalo as the Project's "umbilical cord to the soul of Ireland", agreed. "You've been an outstanding group," she said, addressing the class. "Every morning I'd drive by the hostel and see you all there coming out."

"It's going to be very sad to see you all go," she said, choking back a tear.

Next the teachers of various modules spoke. Photo prof George Miller was pleased at how the students had taken to snapping their shots: "You guys were out there shooting all the time," he said, "Which I appreciated."

No less enthusiastic were writing profs Judy Dobler and Tom Petner.

"I came late, but I discovered all kinds of interesting stories," Dobler said. "Road bowling, Cloud Cukoo, the Green Lady..."

Petner concurred, adding that he had been sending out photos taken by students to subscribers of his e-mail newsletter, viewed by thousands of colleges. "They were stunned by your photos," Petner said.

The event was rounded out by a showing of a number of the videos shot, as well as the web pages in progress.

"I'm really glad that I did this program," Oklahoma student Sarah Turner said after the crowd had watched her movie, a spooky drama on local ghost hauntings. "I'm really lucky and I feel really fortunate to have had the chance to come here. I've learned a lot about myself and others."

Similar testimonials were received from the community.

"I've been struck by the commitment of the students," local priest Fr Kevin said. "After all-- you are on summer holiday!"

A delegation of astronomers from the Armagh Observatory also turned up after a chance viewing online of some of the videos.

"We've watched the Armagh Observatory video 100 times," Romanian astronomer Miruna Popescu said with a smile. The team at the observatory liked it so much, she added, they incorporated it into their website.

"What an exciting programme-- we're delighted," said Armagh City councillor Sylvia McRoberts, enthusiastic about the benefits such a program can bring. "We appreciate your positive approach to showing Armagh, and you have demonstrated there is a lot happening here. You've been wonderful ambassadors."

Her partner, fellow councillor Thomas O'Hanlon, agreed. "I hope you's come back," he grinned.

The festivity continued later that night at Guildernew's bar, where program director Ciofalo treated the students to a night out, featuring cider, chicken goujons, and mayonnaise, with a musical backing courtesy of "DJ Chill".

But all good things must come to a close, and on Saturday morning the group left Armagh, sharing cabs to Belfast airport, doing last minute airport gift-shop shopping, and ascending into the dark clouds on their way back to the United States.

We at the Armagh Examiner would like to thank everyone-- readers, contributers, students, faculty, and 'Armaghnians' alike, and especially the Amma Centre, without which this project would not have been possible.

See you again next year!

2007-08-15T06:10:00.000-07:00

KITCHEN MESS CALL-TO-ARMS
RANCID MILK THICK, CHUNKY, WET, & YELLOW

AMID THE ELATION of being finished with projects, Temple University student Chrissy Doughty brought her classmates down to earth with a stern call to arms against a messy environment.

The warning, issued Wednesday afternoon in the hostel kitchen, was aimed at students whom Doughty felt had been abusing the cooking facilities and leaving a mess behind.

"It's disgusting," Doughty said. "It's too messy. I normally keep things pretty clean, but this is disgusting."

She gestured to a large cast iron pot containing the slimy brown remnants of a traditional stew cooked by hostel employee "DJ Chill" and which he left out overnight to rot.

Computer lab tech and New Kids on the Block fan Darcy Caputo took Doughty's message to heart, and immediately began clearing the communal refrigerator of its vile contents.

"Who left all this to rot and fester?" Caputo asked as he pulled bottle after bottle of thick, rancid milk from the soggy bowels of the silver fridge.

Student Laura McKean-Peraza wrinkled her nose as she held up a bottle of milk that had expired on July 28th-- over two weeks ago.

Some milk had hardened and congealed; others had separated into curds and whey. One bottle of milk, described by a passerby as "botulistic" had swollen so that it could no longer stand up. Another had turned a repulsive shade of yellow.

"Who buys this milk, drinks a sip, and leaves it to sit for weeks?" Caputo cried.

"I don't drink milk," Doughty replied, "And this makes me sick. It's really disgusting."

Among the other items dragged out of the wet, moist depths of the fridge were a bag of soggy, wilted, brown salad greens; various pots of foul, drippy yogurt; a single slice of sweaty ham, and other unidentifiable scum-covered objects. But the most prevalent abandoned groceries were bottles of thick, glutinous milk, some with chunks.

Student Kyle Saadeh eyed the collection of drippy milk bottles and then looked over at Darcy.

"I'll give you $1,000 to chug all that," he told Darcy, nodding towards the stinking display.

"$1,500," Caputo replied, upping the ante.

There was a moment of silence as the pair stared at the rank mess, and they both shook their heads.

"I'll tell you one thing, though," Caputo noted. "It's got to be rich in calcium."

2007-08-15T05:52:00.000-07:00

FINISHED!
PROJECTS COMPLETE, COLLECTIVE SIGH OF RELIEF

THAT TIME is on us once again. The culmination of four weeks of photographing, writing, and filming is here as students bring their pieces together to form cohesive web pages documenting Armagh. They finish one by one, exhausted by the effort, but joyous at its completion.

"I finished yesterday," Gonzaga student Christine Slomski said, treating herself to a piece of chocolate as a reward. "It's nice. It's a sweet feeling."

Student Alex Cavallo, fresh out bed at 1pm and relaxing in a pair of powder blue hospital scrubs was enjoying being finished as well.

"I feel like a great weight has been lifted off of me," she said. "I thought the web design part would be hard 'cause I'd never done it-- but it wasn't. And now I'm finished."

There remain a few students left with a bit of work left on their projects. Student Sarah Turner sat in the hostel lounge, awaiting her appointment to finish it up.

"My appointment's at two," she said, "And then I'll be done. It's gonna be nice."

Downstairs in the kitchen, Florida native Megan McGovern rifled through the communal ramen box in search of lunch, feeling peckish now that her project was complete. "I rented some videos to celebrate," she said, holding a package of "Top Ramen Oodles of Noodles" in one hand and an early 90s Robin Williams comedy in the other.

The project website, inarmagh.com, will be up soon.

2007-08-14T04:45:00.000-07:00

HEARTS OF GOLD, LIMBS OF RUBBER
SPOTLIGHT ON EXCEPTIONALLY FLEXIBLE STUDENTS

IT'S AN INDISPUTABLE FACT that Armagh Project students are noted for their incredible intelligence, often compared to supercomputers. They are frequently good-looking, too, as well as being witty, cultured, and with class that puts royalty to shame. But life isn't all smarts, good looks, and attitude. A few students among the bunch harbor a secret. An unknown, even dangerous talent: extraordinarily flexibility.

Their limbs seem to defy all the laws of nature as these students bend and twist themselves into pretzel-like contortions, laughing merrily as their stomach-churning performances have classmates looking away in disgust. Their bones seem to be made of rubber; their muscles and tendons display a startling range of movement unseen in mere mortals. Today we focus on these students: their hopes, their fears, their bendy arms.

"I was bored one day," Chrissy Doughty tells me, picking at her dinner. "I was just sitting there in class." Doughty's boredom was to lead her into realms rarely explored by ordinary humans. She pulled at her fingers. She pulled them up towards her hand. And they kept going. And going. A few seconds later, Doughty had pulled her finger all the way to the back of her hand. Demonstrating her talent Monday night, she showed no sign of pain.

Is there something wrong with her bones?

"I don't think so," the tow-headed moppet replied. "But maybe I'm Elasta-Girl."

Has she ever used her extraordinary talent to stop a crime, perhaps?

"Yes," she replies smugly. She refuses to disclose which, however.

A table away sits Gonzaga student Megan McGovern. Like Doughty, she harbors a dark secret, one that she traces back to a childhood accident that left her arms as bendy as a bowlful of jelly.

"I was riding my bike," McGovern explained. "My shoe was untied, and I was too lazy to tie it-- I rode anyways. Two houses down, while pedaling, the whole bike tipped, and I broke my arm in seven places. It never healed properly."

She raises her well-toned arms in the air above her, bending them in an uncanny manner.

But if she only broke one arm, how is it that both arms can bend? On being asked, a look of confusion crossed McGovern's normally serene face. She shrugged and went back to her dinner.

Fellow Gonzagan Brigid Carey knows only too well what life is like as a member of this secret club. In Carey's case, she found herself licking places few dare to dream of in her search for the ultimate bendy high.

"I can lick my own elbow," the demure football fan smiled, extending her moist tongue to her elbow and licking heartily. "It's supposed to be impossible, but I can do it. They say 75% of people who hear about it try it-- and they all fail. I first read about it in my daily planner in 7th grade, and I too had to try it. It was easy!"

Her classmates gasped and she spread saliva across her elbow with a cheeky grin.

Not to be outdone, your own faithful editor lept to the occasion, combining two in one: McGovern's arm bend and Carey's elbow-lick. He waited for the applause to die down before returning to his goat-cheese pizza.

With all these hidden talents around, how do ordinary students feel-- those whose arms stop bending at the regular place; those whose wet tongues wag furiously short of the elbow? Are students vigorously stretching regularly, tugging on arms and legs in an attempt to "bend it like Doughty"?

"No-- I'm fine," grad student Meg Carey told me with a shudder. "I like my body to be normal. I don't want to be a freak."

2007-08-13T06:26:00.000-07:00

"THE SATISFACTION OF A WELL-PRESSED SHIRT"
IRON-MAD IRISH FLOCK TO SCOTLAND TO REMOVE WRINKLES

CLOTHES LAUNDERING IN NORTHERN IRELAND can be a bit of a hassle. Between white plastic bags from the Squeaky Clean laundrette and a neverending line at the hostel washer, it's enough to drive anyone crazy.

"The first two weeks, I was hurting," student Chrissy Doughty told me. "I felt grimy!"

But for the residents of Northern Ireland themselves, cleaning clothes isn't hard enough. The Armagh Examiner has learned of a new clothes laundering practice in the region that takes the simple act of cleaning one's garments to new extremes of complication and hardship.

It seems locals are queueing up to take a ferry to Stranraer, Scotland to do their ironing atop the craggy peaks of the Scottish shore. One apparently gathers up one's dirty laundry and takes it to Scotland to clean. Swedish ferry line Stena offers a £105 ($212) outing which their promotional literature claims "combines the thrill of an extreme outdoor activity with the satisfaction of a well pressed shirt". The ferry departs from Belfast at 7:35am, returning at midnight-- offering residents of Northern Ireland the entire day to launder their clothes anywhere they want: "[l]akes, castles, mountains, forests... You decide!" the brochure helpfully explains. "[E]xperience freedom like never before!"

Armagh Project students, however, were not so enthusiastic about the idea.

"Are they on acid?" screamed Gonzaga student Brigid Carey.

"It sounds pretty wacky," agreed Temple student Andrew Harrington. "I have no experience in rock-climbing, and I don't usually iron my clothes anyway."

Student Sarah Turner was similarly unmoved. "I wouldn't go," she said. "I hate ironing."

Perfectly-coiffed photo prof George Miller, however, seemed eager at the chance to iron his way through his wardrobe, excited especially if there was a chance to compete.

"Is it a competition?" he chirped breathlessly. "I'm in!"

Does Miller consider himself especially talented at ironing?

"Ohhhhhhhh yeah," he nodded. "Put me on a rock and I'll kick some butt ironing."

2007-08-08T07:18:00.000-07:00

LOCAL GIRL MAKES GOOD
ARMAGH NATIVE HOPS ON BOARD

IT'S A COOL, OVERCAST DAY in Armagh, but upstairs in the Amma Centre computer lab, a damp, humid atmosphere reigns as students sweat over their projects. Students mutter, hum, and swear under their breath as they struggle against looming deadlines. But amidst the mush-mouthed North American voices, a lilting local accent finds its way to one's tired ears.

It is none other than Roisin Kelly, Armagh local and pinch-hitter in the much-lauded Armagh Project Team Four. But how did an Armagh City girl find her way to an American program and a table full of foreigners?

"The woman at reception [in the Amma Centre] is a friend of my family," she explained. "And I heard that Team Four was a person short-- so I came to fill the gap."

And fill the gap she did. Her fellow team members say they can't imagine anyone else in her place, much less a run-of-the-mill American.

"She's helped us so much in getting around and with the facts," team member Cate Oliver said.

"She's great-- one of the gang," agreed Charlotte Levins, noting that Kelly was invaluable in explaining the cultural mores of the area. "She told us what to add, and what was sensitive and to stay away from," Levins continued. "She told us what it was like growing up here, and she also showed us where the cool places are."

Despite bringing such strengths to the team, Kelly remains modest and insists that it's really all new to her.

"Although it's interesting," she said, "It's something I've never done before. It's pretty challenging, and I do sometimes feel like a fish out of water."

But being a local among foreigners can be eye-opening, she notes. "I've seen Armagh in a new light," she said. "There are so many things that [my team] find interesting that I take for granted."

What's it like working with Americans?

"They're slightly conspicuous," Kelly laughs. "A bit obvious."

And what does she make of this project coming to Armagh, of all places?

"That's the mystery," she said. "I can't quite work that one out."

2007-08-07T03:47:00.000-07:00

WIG OUT AT ZIO'S
HAIRY SITUATION HAS DINNERTIME COMPANIONS AT LOGGERHEADS

TEMPERS WERE RUNNING HIGH and accusations were flying after an argument broke out at Zio's Italian Restaurant when Gonzaga University student Brigid Carey accused fellow Spokanite and computer lab tech Darcy Caputo of wearing a shaggy wig in a promotional video.

The video, shot on location in Italy by director Dan Garrity, is an 8-minute-long promo reel for the Cagli Project, sister program to the Armagh Project. Caputo makes a brief cameo as an Italian Don Juan, flirting with vivacious video host Annie Carey-- Brigid's sister.

Brigid Carey charges that Caputo, these days sporting well-oiled close-cropped hair, was wearing a long wig during his scenes in the film. "It just looked really funny," she explained.

The two entered into a lively debate fueled by red wine as they sat across from each other upstairs at Zio's.

Carey claimed she got the idea it was a wig from Caputo himself. She charged that Caputo did not directly claim to be wearing a wig in the video, but had a "shrug and a smirk" attitude towards life that led her to question the authenticity of the long, lush hair on display in the film.

Carey, no stranger to courting controversy after repeatedly claiming to be related to pop star Mariah Carey, viewed the video on popular website You Tube, where it is still openly available. Caputo believes that Carey simply "jumped to conclusions" when confronted with his thick, flowing mane in the movie.

The debate remained unresolved at the end of dinner, with both sides still sticking to their stories. But some had fears for Carey's sanity following the contentious charges fired by each of the parties.

"She was up all night, worried, angry, and confused," Brigid's sister and roommate Meg Carey, also a student, told me, making veiled allusions to her sister's mental health, which she described as precarious. "She'll go into old age worrying about this. There won't be any end to it."

2007-08-07T03:26:00.000-07:00

ALL HAIL NEW FACULTY

A HEARTY WELCOME was extended over dinner Monday to our two newly-arrived faculty members: Judy Dobler, copyediter, and Cindy Bonfini-Hotlosz, web design.

"White wine" was Dobler's response to being asked how she was feeling after her flight. "I'm a little discombobulated," she said, by way of explanation. "It's a little weird to come from Omaha, Nebraska, to Northern Ireland. But I'm excited."

At the next table over, Bonfini-Hotlosz displayed her incredible stamina-- after her transatlatic flight and the trip from Belfast to Armagh, she immediately taught a two-hour class on web design and went right to dinner.

"It's in my blood," she said. "Strong Irish stock, with a dash of Italian."

What does she look forward to most here in Armagh? "My goal is engaging the public. And that's what we'll do," she said.

2007-08-06T02:54:00.001-07:00

TRAVELS IN THE NORTH
STUDENTS BRAVE DELUGE TO TRAVEL FAR, WIDE

A LITTLE RAIN couldn't stop these hardy scholars. Despite a weekend of nonstop torrential downpours and heavy winds, defiant students braved the elements to enjoy a few days off and travel far and wide throughout the northern climes of these emerald isles.

Students Lauren Hicks and Chrissy Doughty took a long and tortuous trip across the choppy Irish Sea to Scotland in search of the fabled city of Glasgow. They laughed when asked if it was difficult to reach.

"We took a bus to a shuttle to a ferry to a bus to a train to get to Glasgow," Hicks explained. "Just getting there was the biggest adventure of them all."

"We took just about every mode of transportation possible to get there," nodded Chrissy Doughty. "Oh, except rocket. Or plane. Or hot air balloon. Or horse. Or bicycle. Or horse and buggy. Or camel. Or rickshaw. Yeah, it was good."

"Glasgow was beautiful and bustling," though, Hicks assured. "We went to the first frat house in Glasgow, only now it's a dance club."

"The problem was no-one in Scotland knew how to dance," Doughty sighed. "They don't know how here, either. Maybe in the whole U.K.!"

"But who's stereotyping?" added Hicks sheepishly.

Gonzaga student Cate Oliver, meanwhile, stayed in Northern Ireland, venturing up to the barren, windswept northern coast in search of the Giant's Causeway. The Causeway, a series of bewitching basalt columns formed in the mists of time, gave rise to ancient myths that the giant volcanic stones were the work of a terrible giant.

"It was amazing, besides the rain," Oliver recounted. "It rained the whole time until we got on the bus. It was slippery out there on the rocks-- I saw a few people eat it."

Did Oliver get a glimpse of the horrible stomping giant?

"I did," she said. "I shook his hand."

What did the mythical warrior look like? Was he bedecked in green, growling fiercely, tossing rocks about and letting loose terrible oaths?

"Actually," Oliver smiled, "He looked kinda like Darcy," referring to popular computer lab tech Darcy Caputo.

Caputo, suspiciously clad in green and towering over his computer, dismissed the whole thing, snorting "There is no giant."

2007-08-06T02:22:00.000-07:00

SLATHER ON THE MAYO

"NO ESCAPE" FROM THE FATTY SPREAD
by CHRISTINE SLOMSKI, special to the Armagh Examiner

MAYO IS A BIG DEAL in Ireland. In fact, it's a staple ingredient, and my take so far is that the Irish can't get enough of it. Here mayonnaise is served as dressing on salads, with burgers, on sandwiches (not just a dab, but as an essential ingredient), as dip with chips (fries), and with eggs. There's no escaping the stuff. I was walking through Sainsbury's one day and was awe-stricken by the amount of shelf space that this creamy wonder takes up.

2007-08-02T07:41:00.000-07:00

Say Goodbye to the Murals of Belfast

by ARIELLE EMMETT, special to the Armagh Examiner

BELFAST, AUGUST 1. The Northern Irish government has promised the country that all graphic reminders of the troubles will be washed away.

In Derry this week, a pink mural welcoming the world to gay and lesbian Derry was half painted over. On Tuesday, July 31, the last of the British forces shipped out of Northern Ireland for Afghanistan, symbolically the end of British occupation and the start of peace. And in West Belfast, the paramilitary murals painted on Protestant and Catholic neighborhood buildings are about to be white washed forever. “After next week the murals will be gone,” said Margaret McAliskey, our Irish Culture and History professor of The Armagh Project. She made a scrubbing gesture with her hand, as though wielding a paint brush or mop. “You’ll not see them again. They’ll be painted over,” she said.

Seems this is the Northern Irish government’s plan to help paint over the wounds of 30 years of war. Curiosity got to us; the idea of painting over the collective history of a people seemed strange. So on Sunday morning, July 29, Professor Susan Jacobson and I caught the bus to Belfast. On our arrival, we encountered a city bus tour guide who ignored us while he whipping out a pack of tickets for a group of visiting Yankee businessmen. We stood in line, and when he refused to answer our questions about his tour, we left. Meeting him was a fairly creepy introduction to the city.

Our next encounter was more fortunate. We grabbed a “black taxi” (actually painted silver) to visit the murals. Our cab driver, Robert Beattie, patiently guided us through the social history of thirty years of bitterness. He drove us along both sides of the “Peace Line,” actually a graffitti-strewn concrete and iron wall festooned with thousands of signatures – including President Bill Clinton’s. The Peace Line separates the Protestant district of Shankill Rd. and the Catholic district known as The Falls. On each side of the wall, you can see a distinct record of the troubles in popular art – cartoonish murals of William of Orange and Oliver Cromwell, a hero to the Ulster loyalists; a bleeding red hand, symbolizing “The Red Hand of Ulster,” and some expertly drawn and sinister portraits of young commandos and other paramilitary types from the UFF (Ulster Freedom Fighters) and the Ulster Volunteer Force (another loyalist group). Many of the commandos are wearing black head socks and carrying machine guns. Text accompanies the murals commemorating fallen heroes and innocent victims of the bloodshed.

On the Catholic side, the murals depict most famously the hunger strikers, especially Bobby Sands, a poet and elected Member of Parliament who was the first to starve himself to death protesting the treatment of Catholics. One of his most famous lines, “Our revenge will be the laughter of our children,” is written on the mural walls. There is also a stone memorial set inside a tiny garden within the well-kept Falls Catholic estate. The stones are inscribed in Gaelic with the names of Republican fallen from 1916 to the present day.

I was struck by the bleakness of the Shankill estates especially. In the middle of the road of one residential neighborhood, there is a tire graveyard, with heaps of garbage and scraps of metal piled up. Beattie, our guide, said the people here routinely set bonfires at the site, but the area will shortly be cleaned up. The estate still gives off the aura of an armed camp. The murals here are painted both in color and black and white; they are eerie and monumental reminders, and Irish children play in front of them. Some portray scenes from both IRA and Loyalist bombings and sniper fire; others are divided up like comic strips, depicting several scenes of anguish and the death of babies wrapped in swaddling clothes.

On both the Catholic and Protestant sides, it’s easy to see the anger here, but also the art of an anguished people. It seems hard to believe that the government is now going to white wash these records of history and replace them with more homogenous and “healing” imagery such as Northern Ireland’s sporting heroes.

“I was born in Shankill where a lot of innocent people have died,” Beattie said. “Hopefully they [the government] will take the Peace Line down, block by block, and then restore it. At least some of it should stay up as a memorial. If they take it down in a block, they should put it in a Peace Museum.”

We feel the same way about the murals. It’s clear that the mood here is to succor the population while encouraging a new era of healing and bipartisanship. But the ‘painting over’ program seems shot gun and short-sighted, as though the government is erasing a memory tape. The program certainly does not have the support of many residents of Belfast; the white wash program suggests the presence of an Orwellian Minister of Culture, Big Brother.

How can the Northern Irish forget that those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it?

Arielle Emmett is professor of storytelling in the Armagh Project.

2007-08-02T06:06:00.001-07:00

A COMIC GUIDE

HERE'S A SPECIAL TREAT for Armagh Examiner readers-- a colorful comic guide to our classroom facility, the Amma Centre. Let student Laura McKean-Peraza be your guide to its nooks and crannies in this exclusive, behind-the-scenes tour.

Click on the comic to enlarge it

2007-08-01T02:18:00.000-07:00

ANGUISH ALLEVIATED AS FRIDGES MULTIPLY
EXTRA SPACE FOR LEFTOVER FISH AND CHIPS, WILTED GREENS
by CHRISTINE SLOMSKI, special to the Armagh Examiner

A SOURCE OF ANGUISH to the student and faculty group, the community refrigerator at the Armagh Youth Hostel housed more than twenty-five people's food for nearly two weeks. Packed to the brim, the grumbling got so bad that another full-size refrigerator and freezer showed up magically one afternoon in the dining room. Needless to say, the group is breathing easier with the added space. Now, if only the dishes could get done...

2007-07-31T06:34:00.000-07:00

LATE-NIGHT BASEMENT CINEMA PACKS THEM IN

MOVIE-MAKING PROF DRAWS RAVE REVIEWS

FILMMAKER AND VIDEOGRAPHY PROFESSOR Dustin Morrow's landmark 2005 documentary Matchmaker received its exclusive Armagh City avant-premiere last night in a crowded hostel basement. The director was in attendance and played on the internet while students gathered round on a motley assortment of chairs and couches to watch the feature-length film.

Matchmaker, shot in 2003, follows the filmmaker, Morrow, and his associate Seth as the pair of Americans attempt, unsuccessfully, to find love in Ireland.

"It's about the world's largest singles event," Morrow explained, "The Matchmaker Festival, which takes place every September in County Clare. A man named Willy Daly, the world's best matchmaker, introduces people to their soulmates." Morrow rejects the notion that he and his 'production partner' Seth were desperate and dateless, preferring to use the term "single filmmakers".

Asked about making a documentary about himself, Morrow concedes that the film is very much a "product of its time". "You couldn't do it today," he told me. "But that first-person Michael Moore-style documentary was really in vogue when I made it."

In vogue or not, it was popular demand that led the film to be shown in the first place. "I showed some clips in class," Morrow said, "And they started pestering me about it."

The reaction to the film was, Morrow said, "very positive".

"It was hilarious," Bennett College student Janine Quarles said. "Dustin brought the comedy, and Seth was just silly as hell."

Asked if she would attend a similar dating event, called "Mardi-Gras-esque" by the filmmaker, Gonzaga graduate student Cate Oliver shouted out "Oh yeaaah!"

Others disagreed. "It seemed a little raunchy," Quarles told me. "Some of those older women were getting a little loose-- loosey-goosey!"

"I don't think I would go," Temple University student Andrew Harrington said, shaking his head. "Nothing against Irish girls, but they just didn't seem too interested in Dustin or Seth."

But there was love in the end for Morrow after all. Despite his lack of success in the movie, the Matchmaker Festival still led indirectly to his current girlfriend.

"She saw the film," Morrow explained. "She e-mailed me, saying she thought I was 'cute'. We've been together ever since. I don't know if I should tell Willy Daly, though-- he might use it to up his stats," he laughed.

Morrow is currently in the process of preparing the film for widespread U.S. release.

2007-07-31T01:37:00.001-07:00

STUDENTS MAKE MERRY WHILE PROFS COME UP FLAT

JIGS, REELS, AND ROADSIDE BREAKDOWNS

STUDENTS TOOK A WEEKEND OUTING to the small nearby town of Coalisland for traditional dancing and music, returning to Armagh fresh-faced and with a noticeable spring in their step. Coalisland, so-named due to its association with coal mining, was this weekend the home of the regional trials for an all-Ireland song and dance competition.

Along the way to Coalisland, students were able to learn a bit of the history of the area thanks to impromptu minibus lectures from Irish culture professor Margaret McAliskey. Stops were made at the Moygashel Linen Centre for scarves and scones, and the Tyrone Crystal factory so students could get a sense of some of the local artisan traditions.

The minibus pulled into Coalisland to the sound of accordion and tin whistles as youngsters carted musical instruments into the competition hall.

"I watched a fiddle competition, and then some Gaelic-language singing," said Randolph-Macon Woman's Collage student Laura McKean-Peraza. "The doorman said we couldn't film, due to the Child Privacy Act, but I did meet one of the judges who was an Irish dancer."

And not just any dancer-- a "Lord of the Dance," according to McKean-Peraza. "He danced with Michael Flatley, the world's greatest Irish dancer!"

Did he show any of his fancy footwork to the Chapel Hill, NC native? "Not right then and there," she explained. "But he'll be dancing next Thursday night in Dublin, and we'll be there!"

Meanwhile, an adventure of another sort was taking place mere miles away as a group of professors found themselves in a rut-- quite literally.

The group of five had been following the student minibus in a rented Vauxhall until their chauffeur, communications professor John Caputo, lost control of the vehicle and careened into a roadside ditch.

"I was scared for my life," claimed videography professor Dustin Morrow of Temple University.

But within minutes, Caputo and his two sons had sprung into action changing the punctured tire. "The Caputo pit team?" Morrow asked. "I had complete confidence in them."

Within an hour, the spare tire had been successfully attached and the group was ready to regain the highway. Only one problem remained: John Caputo's greasy, oily hands.

IEI Media director Andy Ciofalo rushed to the rescue, drawing from his bag of tricks (a black satchel) a packet of "Cottonelle" moist towelettes which he handed to a grateful Caputo, who vigorously toweled off his soiled fingers with a joyful grin.

The profs took to the road again just in time to see the student bus going back to town in the opposite direction. Professor Morrow, however, was satisfied with his day out.

"It was an adventure in history, culture, and Caputo," he smiled.

2007-07-27T08:05:00.000-07:00

Sir Kenneth Bloomfield Addresses the ‘Misgovernment’ and Missed Opportunities of Northern Irish Rule
by ARIELLE EMMETT, special to the Armagh Examiner

ARMAGH, JULY 23. We met with Sir Kenneth Bloomfield, the former Head of Northern Ireland’s Civil Service and also the country’s Victims’ Commissioner, as he gave a talk about new Irish identities at the John Hewitt International Summer School.

Bloomfield, a white-haired scholar, is all worry and humor crossing his handsome Anglo-Irish face. He has worked closely with successive Prime Ministers of Northern Ireland throughout the “troubles,” and finds himself confronting government intransigence and Catholic-Protestant violence with a sense of unease and hope.

“Ever since the Good Friday agreement, we’ve been agonizing, ‘Is it over yet?’” he said. During a talk featuring perspectives from his new book, A Tragedy of Errors: The Government and Misgovernment of Northern Ireland (Liverpool University Press, 2007). Bloomfield expressed sadness about earlier missed opportunities for Catholic-Protestant reconciliation and power-sharing. He wonders why Northern Irish majority leaders rejected outright even modest initiatives in the 1970s, 80s, and 90s to bring Catholics greater government representation and civil rights.

“Will things destabilize or will they devolve [peacefully]?” he asked a packed crowd of listeners. "I'm not optimistic." But Bloomfield, who was raised in the Protestant church but found himself linked by blood to a Catholic woman who lived centuries ago on the Shannon River, hopes scores of issues – including victims’ rights and economic opportunity – will eventually be settled.

“There is a sense here of feeling more and more alienated from England, yet we also feel a distance from the 26 counties of the Republic of Ireland who are so elated by their new-found prosperity,” he observed. A clear Northern Irish identity is emerging, says Bloomfield, whose own home was once bombed by the IRA. That identity is growing stronger in the wake of disappointing interactions with the British government, and exists even with the uncertainty that the bloody enmities of the past are indeed over.

In May 2007, the four political parties of Northern Ireland announced a landmark power-sharing agreement enabling both the Protestant majority and Catholic minority to join a 12-member administration that took control of Ulster’s government departments from Britain. Although the agreement was the central goal of the US-brokered “Good Friday” accord of 1998, it took nearly a decade to bring the leaders of the two highly polarized Protestant and Catholic parties together. Northern Irish audiences were stunned when Protestant evangelist Ian Paisley, 81, head of the Democratic Unionist party, and Martin McGuinness, 56, Sinn Fein deputy leader and former deputy commander of the outlawed Irish Republican Army, smiled beside each other as they announced the new accord.

A Plea for Victims

But power sharing does not make all the problems of this nation go away. Bloomfield is concerned that Northern Ireland must achieve a high level of government services and competence. He argued that government should address economic disparities among the working poor, Catholic or Protestant. “Many of those currently in office have no previous experience in office,” he noted. “We have a right to seek good service in Northern Irish government as we had from Great Britain.”

The future direction of the country remains open-ended, he said. The notion of direct rule in Ulster – a quasi colonial rule by Britain – is distasteful to Bloomfield and many Northern Irish. “The Protestant working class community has become more demoralized and we’re sufficiently “devolved” [separated] from Britain that we’ve developed a separate identity.” At the same time, Northern Ireland could seek union with its brethren to the South, creating a united Irish state. However, he said, “unity, like childbirth, is not to be achieved without pain.” More imagination is needed – for example, a “devolved’ and independent Northern Irish state that develops closer economic ties with Southern Ireland, encouraging industry, culture, and high technology to cross borders.

One of the most important and troubling challenges is resolving victims’ claims from the troubles. “We can’t go forward until we address the victims,” he said. “The perpetrators are often considered victims and the government pays them from the same purse.” This solution can’t stand, Bloomfield insists. But finding the right balance of clemency, punishment, and government financial support isn’t easy, either. When a reporter asked Bloomfield if Northern Ireland should consider the South African model of reconciliation -- hearings that allow victims to confront the perpetrators of violent crimes -- he noted that the numbers of crimes in Ulster were daunting. "Any victims not participating in the hearings would feel left out," he said, acknowledging anger and divisiveness here still run deep.

Bloomfield is not sure how reconcilation or fair compensation for victims should play out.

“In the future, thousands will live under the shadows [of the troubles], and we must never forget them,” he said.

Arielle Emmett is professor of storytelling in the Armagh Project.

2007-07-27T03:37:00.000-07:00

WELCOME TO A WORLD OF PASTA-BILITIES
ITALY MEETS IRELAND IN A HOSTEL BASEMENT

STUDENTS SLURPED HAPPILY ON NOODLES AND SALAD on Thursday evening as the normally quiet hostel canteen was transformed into an Italian trattoria. Students and faculty alike were transported via tomato sauce into the back streets of southern Italy thanks to the tireless culinary efforts of noted gourmand Dr John Caputo and a small team of eager student helpers.

Caputo, who hosts a radio program on Italian cooking back in the United States, drew on his decades of Italian cooking experience to provide the hungry students with a healthy dinner and a break from the ordinary fish and chips or instant noodles.

The scholarly chef was seen in the late afternoon in Sainsbury's car park pushing around a cart filled with six kilos of noodles, six large jars of tomato sauce, six heads of lettuce, four crusty baguettes, a number of chicken parts, and a bottle of chianti. Back at the hostel, he recruited a number of food-minded students to assist him in the steamy hostel kitchen.

Before long, the small confines of the room were filled with the delicious aroma of simmering garlic. Lips were licked with anticipation.

"The smell is the best part!" Loyola student Juanita Dudhnath told me, mopping her brow after her onion-chopping, pasta-boiling, and bread-slicing.

"I was the lettuce-shredder, cheese-grater, garlic-peeler, and olive eater," Gonzaga University student Megan McGovern said with a smile. What was the best part for her? "It's a toss-up between the olives and the company," she said with a sly smile.

Meanwhile, Bennett College student Jenine Quarles stood watch over a bubbling saucepan of olive oil, garlic, flour, and chicken. "It's hot!" she exclaimed. "You need to watch out-- that grease will burn your butt!"

As the food was served, a line of prospective munchers formed, spooning gobs of salad and ladling piles of pasta onto plates. A fine assortment of international wines appeared, thanks to sommelier and photo professor George Miller, who smiled as he went from table to table "topping off" glasses with French and Chilean vintages.

"It went pretty good," said Dr Caputo at the end of the evening, looking over the remnants of his meal and patting his belly contentedly. "My helpers came through, and we're ready to do it again. I'm even going to type up the recipe and hand it out." Here's to more happy eating.

2007-07-26T02:16:00.000-07:00

YOGA-A-GO-GO
GIRLS GO YOGA GA-GA

AFTER A LONG DAY IN THE CLASSROOM, students in the Armagh Project may be inclined to sore muscles and clouded thoughts. But as they climb the hill from the Amma Centre classrooms to their cosy bunks at the Armagh City Hostel, though, a number of female students have a regimen of stretching and bending to look forward to to clear their minds and tone their aching bodies.

"We have a really hardcore group," professor Arielle Emmett, who leads the yoga sessions explained. "We do it every night. It's called 'Power Yoga'."

What led Emmett to propose nightly yoga? "I train during the year," she told me. "I wanted to do something for myself, and for the students, to keep in shape."

And this is no light routine. "It's an aerobic workout," Emmett nodded. "After a solid hour of it, you leave sweat on the mat."

"It's good," Temple University student Chrissy Doughty said. "We're just starting out at this point, and learning some key moves. It's a pretty flowing routine."

Doughty explained that the nightly sessions were originally held in the hostel TV lounge, but were moved, perhaps due to too many gawkers. "They ruined the aura," she confessed. She explained that the exercises are now done in a top secret location somewhere within the depths of the Armagh City Hostel, but that she was not at liberty to disclose the location to those not yet initiated in the yogic arts.

Although just starting out, some of the moves are quite challenging. Doughty singled out a move known as "the dancer", rumored to be especially complex. She took advantage of the moody lighting in the hostel kitchen to demonstrate the move, succeeding in the difficult pose for mere seconds before falling over the trashcan and spilling half-eaten prawns onto the floor.

Are the moves just too tough for Doughty, a yoga veteran? "No," she confided. "I think my pants are just too tight. And now my stomach hurts-- but I think that's the tomato soup I ate."

2007-07-25T02:49:00.000-07:00

STARVING STUDENTS FLUMMOXED
BY FUNKY FOREIGN FOODS

HUNGRY STUDENTS, fresh from the United States and only just arriving in the rainy climes of Northern Ireland, found themselves in for a few culinary surprises at lunch on their first day of class.

The students took advantage of the well-appointed communal kitchen facilities at their local digs, the Armagh City Hostel, to prepare themselves a variety of foodstuffs they had acquired down the street at Sainsbury's supermarket. Though similarities between food on either side of the Atlantic abounded, many students ended up shocked and astounded by the food they bought.

"For me, everything was familiar," Gonzaga University student Christine Slomski explained, "But in different forms. I went with things I recognized, and with ingredients I know." She sat downstairs at the hostel, chomping happily on a green salad coated in hummus and lightly sprinkled with "Good 4 U" brand pumpkin seeds. "It turned out okay," was Slomski's verdict. "Average. But I'd definitely eat a lunch like this again."

Not so lucky was student Kyle Saadeh, who decided to treat himself to a cup of instant noodles known as "Pot Noodle Southern Fried Chicken", a local specialty. Saadeh began to worry when, upon opening the pot of soup, he found a flavor packet adorned with a large Confederate flag and the cryptic phrase "It's, like, so tangy, y'all".

Nevertheless, he added boiled water and let steep, as per the instructions. He was later seen in front of the televison, looking miserable and picking at his noodles. "It's not that good actually," he sighed. "Not tangy at all."

"There are some sort of white chunks floating around in it," a horrified Saadeh told me with a look of terror, while holding aloft some sort of goopy substance he had dredged from his instant soup. "It's sort of like curdled cheese," he gasped.

Student Nora Daly sat nearby, sipping on Sainsbury's Apple and Blackcurrant Squash. She was noncommittal at first as to the post-lunch beverage's qualities, saying "I think I should have diluted it, but it was otherwise pretty good."

However, the truth soon came out. "It leaves a weird aftertaste, now that you mention it," Daly told me, coming clean as to the nature of undiluted squash. "Would I drink it again? Probably not."