The little things, that's what.

And then there are those days when you look around and ask “ok, now what?”

Yesterday was one of those days. I must admit, I wasn’t all that excited about writing this blog. Not because something bad happened, but because I’ve had to look at Sam probably two or three times today and ask him “hey, what all did we do again yesterday?” Uneventful. At least that’s how I feel.

Please understand that that’s how Ethan feels about it. That’s not entirely true. In reality, some fairly neat stuff went down yesterday. That morning, Sam roused me out of bed earlier than usual so we could go to the Irish conversation classes at the Culterlann. Please understand that I was just getting used to our usual morning lineup: Sam getting up early, me taking my sweet time going from physically getting up to actually gaining consciousness, and then us going straight to the nearest Starbucks for coffee and wi-fi. I was beginning to enjoy this ritual, so I was a little out of sorts when we had to jump up, grab the early bus, and soon afterwards be fit for human interaction with the Irish speakers. It took a little determination, but I made it happen.

At the class itself, we actually had a really great time. We sat in the corner while a group of about 25 senior citizens did their best to give us just enough of a hard time to make us feel welcome. They succeeded. It was quickly pointed out that we were the youngest people in the room by a good 30 years, and then we were almost force-fed a plateful of tea, toast, and orange slices. The section of material they were learning was much farther advanced than anything me and Sam have studied so far, but I still think I learned more in that two hour session than I have in all the hours I’ve spent listening to tapes and pouring over books trying desperately to learn this language.

The more I listened to the older man who was leading the class, the more excited I got. He was a retired teacher (as many of those present were) who had grown up in the countryside, lived through the time of Irish rebellion, and now had a firm grip on the language, and also a talent for explaining it. His teacher-like tone would frequently fade away into his normal conversation voice as he would interject some kind of old country boy illustration to drive home a point he was trying to make, or gave an example of a certain word form. Many of his comments would make us laugh, or lead into some other story from someone else that turned out to have nothing to do with the language, and we all had a good time. For just a little bit there, I was transported back to Louisiana College were I sat under Dr. McFadden as he tried desperately to teach us Greek. It was the most at-home I think I’ve felt this entire trip.

That afternoon, we did an interview with Effie, the receptionist at the Culterlann, who me and Sam have come to regard as a personal friend. Her interview was especially unique because she was aided by another guy that works at the Culterlann, who gracefully butted in on our conversation. Two-for-one interviews? We didn’t mind that a bit. This guy even gave us a very key piece of information, telling us about a pub that allows ONLY Irish to be spoken within its walls. Definitely something we’ll need to make note of in our research. He was even gracious enough to drive us in his personal car to show us where it was located. People are just cool like that here.

We broke for lunch at a little café near the Culterlann. In fact, that was the name of the joint, That Wee Café. It had been highly recommended too, so we figured we’d better try it out. We were not disappointed. My bowl of chili, and Sam’s fish and chips were most excellent, and the milkshakes were phenomenal! Definitely a much needed treat.

We went to Starbucks that afternoon to use the internet and get caught up on some work, which for me mostly resulted in chatting with friends on Facebook. Very pleasant, and enjoyable. We went back to the Culterlann for a more beginner’s level Irish lesson that was scheduled for that night, only to find out that it had been canceled. With nothing else to do, we made our way back to the hostel to call it an early night. We made our plans for the next day, mentally worked out some problems with our research methods that needed addressing, and ended up having nerdy conversations long after we’d turned out the lights. It turned out to be an enjoyable, if not extremely productive day, that left me asking myself what in the world I was going to write my blog about.

We’d had a good day, no question, but nothing to write home about. Nothing extremely eventful, no huge revelations for me to blog about, nothing. I was a little concerned, and somewhat disappointed. But even now, just since I’ve started writing these few pages, I have realized one small thing: sometimes, its all about the little stuff. Sometimes, you expect something big and shiny, when all God intends for you to receive is the small things. If there was anything I think God meant for me to learn from yesterday, it was to enjoy the little things. Sometimes, His blessings come in the form of a great meal, or nice weather, or nice people, or awesome conversations with a great friend. We often overlook these priceless blessings as we hurry about our daily lives. Looking back, I deeply regret not taking time to notice them, or to stop and thank Him for those things yesterday. Those moments are gone now, and I’ll never get them back. Oh well, no use in just being sorry now. The only thing to do now is to keep an open heart and an open eye out for the next ones.

Ok, I have to say, as sincere as those last few lines were, I can’t stand to end a blog on that depressing kind of note. So, in order to brighten things up, please let me say that if any of you ever get the opportunity to enjoy a peanut butter milkshake, do not pass it up. They are fantastic!

-Ethan Bossier

Day 12 in Belfast