Tuesday when Casey and I were strolling back from lunch, I looked up at the Creative Learning Centre and noticed its shocking size. Together with the Nerve Centre and the Café Nervosa to its left, they create a strong presence on Magazine Street. Standing with my back against the historic walls, I could see the significance of this triumvirate. The café looks cool and inviting with its deep blue façade, the actual Nerve Centre gives off a creative vibe with its angularly chiseled front and captivating logo, while the Creative Learning Centre physically overwhelms the other two it demands less attention with its ordinary brick exterior. From my first wee tour of the Creative Learning Centre, I would not have guessed its great size. I can’t believe I hadn’t even noticed it until yesterday. It’s something I walk by every other day, but before Tuesday I wrote it off as just another Derry building. I've posted a wee tour of the three buildings so you can make a judgment for yourself (with music by Mika because the UK loves him!)

The unexpected partnership of modern technology and indigenous accents just adds to the Nerve Centre’s quirkiness. After we’ve wound up the stairs, through the doors and down the dark hallway we come to Editing Suite 3, where a continuously running vintage radiator is situated next to computers and tape decks… and then there are the semi-old, semi-rickety wooden doors that only open automatically. If I came back to the Nerve Centre every day I would venture into its hidden rooms and certainly find more oddities. I love that I found this place, or rather that Bucknell found it for me. I was able to work somewhere that I think reflects my personality more than, say, a political organization. The Nerve Centre is groovy and cutting edge and there’s always something new to explore, like Mervin’s back office or any of the media rooms on the second floor. If I only ever learned about Northern Ireland in a classroom setting I might think there is nothing more than a conflict that smothers the country.

Now that I think about it, the physical layout of the Nerve Centre and its constituents matches its complexity. From the street, with three stories and just a few windows, it looks like a townhouse. But once you enter and explore the winding staircase and the back corridors, you realize you can endlessly search for new nooks. On the ground floor there is a small theatre, a ticket office, an equipment stockroom and a few offices. Moving up to the second floor, they house plenty of video/sound editing suites, recording studios, offices and computer labs. The concert venue resides on the top floor. It’s amazing that all of these things can fit in one building, let alone one that looks so small from the storefront. Walking around the Nerve Centre is like navigating through a labyrinth. Even though I’ve walked around it so many times I still feel like I should carry a rope up the stairs and through the doors to the editing suite so I can find my way back out (as per Theseus and the Minotaur).

On Wednesday we traveled as a group to Stormont, the Northern Ireland Assembly building in Belfast. The building is split into small sections by walls, doors and corridors. We walked through doors that open to more hallways and more doors, with so many rooms, just like at the Nerve Centre. The great room (dare I call it a lobby?) at Stormont is opulent and grand in absolute terms, with its red and blue detailed ceiling, but loses significance when related to the overall grandeur of the entire estate. We climbed gilded stairs to a room identified as a Sinn Fein conference suite. After we moved to another room through more doors and down more corridors (due to top secret Sinn Fein business – I don’t know), I recognized a similarity between Stormont’s segmented configuration and that of the Nerve Centre. However, I’m having trouble drawing any parallels between the motives for each.

I’ll admit that I feel cool when I march through the back hallways in the Nerve Centre, but doing so in Stormont was absolutely intimidating. We stuck out like zoo animals with our band of yellow visitor passes. Security guards herded us around to the bathroom or outside for tea and biscuits. I felt like a complete outsider at Stormont – so powerless in this house of negotiation. I’m thinking that the design of the building is serving its security purpose. It would have been so easy for me to get lost and not find my way back to the lobby. If hoodlums decided to storm Stormont they would probably be too disorientated to actually accomplish anything in the identical hallways. I feel like I'm alone with peace at the Nerve Centre but Stormont is overwhelming... so I would say that the constructions of these two very different buildings serve their purposes. While I can find refuge in the crannies of the NC, I felt pressure like I could be cornered at any moment by the guards. I was actually kind of shocked that purely the structure of a building could reinforce its message so exactly.

On Monday when we got together in Belfast everyone shared their reflections on what we have encountered during the past two weeks. Even though it has been there the whole time, I didn’t put together until two days ago the hope that exists for the children of Northern Ireland. When someone asked the Catholic priest, Aden Troy, about whether integrated education could solve some aspects of the conflict he replied with a wonderfully stimulating answer. He said that when people say something like that, they are putting too much weight on the education system and the children themselves to carry the entire country out of conflict. At that point, being my cheesy self, I thought about Whitney Houston’s song “The Greatest Love of All,” in which she starts out singing, “I believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way.”

This brought me back to our first day at the Nerve Centre two Tuesdays ago when Brendan took us around on a wee tour. Since he is only a student there, he didn’t have too much to say about any given stop he brought us to, but I had so many intuitions during my whirlwind introduction to the great cross-cultural center. In the technological learning space adjacent to the Nerve Centre we peered through a sliver-like window of a door leading to an up-to-date computer lab (a rare site in Derry). There, one or two instructors led a handful of kids around 11 years of age. They watched so intently as they acquired editing skills that I can only dream of learning. As we walked away from the room down the technology-filled corridor, one of the young boys headed towards the bathroom clinging to what I recognized as a Cheetos bag at the time, but looking back was probably some Taytos. This scene introduced me to a few of my first major surprises: children were attending this recreational center during what I would call the start of the school day (10:00 am) and they were able to travel freely to the bathroom while munching on crisps. Hm… children in Northern Ireland aren’t too different from those I know at home. The only difference is that the kids here munch on Taytos and have to live in a country historically cursed by conflict.


Actually, that’s a pretty substantial difference. It’s mind-blowing for me to think that the paramilitary villains made famous by their acts of violence throughout the past 40 years were once children also. It’s amazing how early harmless, open-minded children can be turned into people-hating machines. The sociologist Dr. Chris Gilligan gave us a lecture on Friday about the media’s manipulation of children throughout the conflict in Northern Ireland. Through photographs children have represented the pinnacle of peace and innocence. Not only do the photographs themselves influence their audience, but the actual children residing within the film are clearly being manipulated themselves. We have seen plenty of photographs with toddlers sporting Catholic/Protestant getup in the middle of sectarian showdowns. On Monday we heard that research shows sectarianism brewing within children who are THREE YEARS OLD. So these kids can tell you who they hate right after they joyfully say, “Look! I have a bellybutton!” After hearing two depressing allusions to the manipulation of children in this country, I thought about how much I laud the Nerve Centre for their unprejudiced stance in a divided world.


In his book Giving: How Each of Us Can Change the World Bill Clinton illustrates how we can address the issue of improving communities around the world. In one of the opening chapters he says,

“The great mission of the early twenty-first century is to move our neighborhoods, our nation, and the world toward integrated communities of shared opportunities, shared responsibilities, and a shared sense of genuine belonging, based on the essence of every successful community: that our common humanity is more important than our interesting differences.”

I believe that the Nerve Centre completely embodies this description of community-wide problem solving. The boy I saw walking to the W.C. doesn’t have to worry about sectarian strife when he comes to the Nerve Centre to learn media and technology skills. The fact that he takes the bus during his school day, traveling from a Catholic or Protestant primary school, shows that this community is interested in overcoming the obvious differences to promote the common good. Learning how to interact with media and create things that can touch others is just as important as learning math and here children do indeed have share opportunities, responsibilities, and sense of belonging. Hopefully they will be able to carry this strategy through to adulthood, applying it to other areas of their lives. From my perspective, it’s sad that children have to take buses to find this, but the mere exposure to life outside the conflict is making Derry a better place. I agree with the priest Aden Troy that it’s not fair to let the children bear the burden of lifting Northern Ireland out of conflict… but I know that when people come together in groups here, they have tremendous faith in the future. On Tuesday I saw a lady sporting a green shirt with a tree stitched on it and words below it reading believe in the future. Maybe it’s just fashionable to wear clothes with idealistic messages, but I like to think that she (and others) really believes that the future brings new life as suggested by the vivacious tree.

The Nerve Centre and the Creative Learning Centre, located adjacent to the Nerve Centre on Magazine St, house more than just computer classes. Students can take music lessons or animation classes, utilize the numerous recording studios, and even just come to hang out. If you’ve ever typed in “Nerve Centre” into the YouTube search queue you can tell that there is a pretty active concert scene. It’s cool to know that Derry youth flock here on the weekends but can then get pulled in by its intriguing setup with loads of opportunities. I can tell that school has just let out when I see teenagers start to stroll into the building carrying their instruments and wide smiles. I’m so impressed because I can tell these kids are actually yearning to learn. They may not realize what great experiences they’re getting, and what violent scenes they’re missing, just by spending their afternoons in the Nerve Centre and off the streets. Although they provide enlightenment for young people, they are not age exclusive.

Take our mentor Brendan for example. He has a family and had spent fifteen years in his old job as a social worker. After a few sad turns in his life, he decided that the mental health industry was not going to take him to greater places in life. Brendan decided to make a drastic career change towards media. On Tuesday when I was testing out different local folk songs for our final video he sang along to both the Catholic tune (The Town I Loved So Well) and the Loyalist one (Derry's Walls). He hummed along to each with the same jovial tone as he does when he sings everyday. Who knows if he knew one because he learned it as a kid and the other because he knew a wise imitation of it… I didn't want to assume. Brendan uses the Nerve Centre for its great video opportunities. On one or two occasions Brendan didn't know the answer to one of my questions regarding Final Cut, so we work together to figure it out.  It’s great that he’s learning at the same time I am. His story further shows that not only is the Nerve Centre unbiased, but a lot of the time sectarianism has nothing to do with why people come here.


I was talking with Cara, one of the TAs, when I couldn’t think of what to write. She posed this question for me: can you find anything remotely similar to the Nerve Centre in the United States? Reflecting on this question helped me tie together the goal of this post. I had to combine several organizations from my hometown to come up with anything close to paralleling the missions of the Nerve Centre. There are specialized music schools like Eastman, I might find collections like the Digital Video Archive in a museum or possibly in the library and the only time I ever had any type of access to a recording/sound studio was when my dad briefly managed one. And none of the aforementioned places would be aligned with a concert venue. Above all this, the Nerve Centre has the unique mission to bring all of these things together to anyone who wants to subscribe – from any background. At home this last point is guaranteed, for which I feel thoroughly blessed. It’s weird for me to feel surprised at an organization that does not discriminate. In my opinion, it’s important to recognize and encourage children’s open-mindedness, which the Nerve Centre does. As an adult with pretty a pretty solid base of ideas, I was astonished at how easy it was for us to start to try and read what background the people we have met come from even after one week in Northern Ireland. I can’t imagine how the people of the Nerve Centre do this after living their entire lives here. This brings me back to the quote I mentioned earlier. Bill Clinton’s call to action is not an easy thing to put into practice, especially in Derry. But the Nerve Centre has been doing so for the past two decades. PROPS!

Winding Road

We visited the Nerve Center as a group on Wednesday to see a presentation by one of its operators, John Peto. We watched their promotional video and a few of the projects created at the Nerve Center. Seeing the promo for a second time, after being immersed in the high energy of the Nerve Center for a few days, I finally acknowledged the right feeling I wanted to get out of my placement. We watched a student-created and produced film, Wasted, which deals with substance abuse and psychological affliction in Derry. A teenaged girl witnesses her mother falling back into alcoholism and then herself runs into a potentially deadly situation with drugs and alcohol.

Maybe I’m not out there changing people’s views and opening their eyes to the serious problems residing in this city, but I do see myself as more than just a beneficiary of this intense piece. When watching the scenes in this poignant film with landmarks I actually know and walk by everyday, like Derry’s walls, made me realize that I am now a part of this culture. If I should choose to make a difference in this promising place, I know exactly where to find the resources.

Twenty-one years ago musicians on both sides of the sectarian divided wanted to come together for the sake of music alone, so they created the Nerve Center. Initially they bonded to forget about hatred and segregation. But now, with movies like Wasted, the Nerve Center is bringing the hard issues to the forefront. Instead of just providing a diagnosis, the Nerve Center is granting young people the power to develop a cure. By giving the creators of the film an opportunity to develop a plot addressing the downsides of Derry life, they are not only spreading the message to other young people, but it can lead them away from that life as well. While the content of the movie was very important and needed to be addressed, the process alone of taking kids off the street and giving them another outlet is promising for Derry’s future. I strongly support this idea of giving people skills will help lead them away from a downward spiral towards sectarianism and towards a promising future.

The founder of the Playhouse theater in Derry spoke to us after John’s presentation. Pauline Ross graduated from college in her late thirties with two kids and eventually realized her dream of connecting the people of Northern Ireland through the arts. I was so inspired by her story, which Casey confirmed by telling me that she could see my face lit up during Pauline’s entire appearance. My favorite was when she said, “Artists will never start a war.” As an avid crafter, I would like to say that I’m part of that category. I love that organizations like the Playhouse and the Nerve Center give an alternative to conflict. I am proud to be linked to something that acts as an escape from the Troubles, even though you can also tackle conflict head on as well. Pauline mentioned a play that really dug into the issues of the Troubles, which could spark dialogue. It’s nice to be able to forget about the hostility of the sectarian conflict, but at some point it needs to be addressed in order to improve it.

I was intrigued by the Playhouse’s commitment to abating sectarian hostility through unbiased means. For this reason, Casey and I ventured over there to interview two of our fellow Bucknell students on Tuesday. Jameson and Christine work at the Playhouse, so we decided to record their impressions of their placement. We certainly had a rollicking good time going through the eccentricities of the interview process, but more than that, I started to understand further how important our two organizations are in providing alternatives to sectarian divisions. The Playhouse has moved to a temporary location while a huge renovation is carried out at their usual place on Artillery Street. This goes to show that the community is willing to support something that continues to fulfill its mission of creating a third party in the conflict. The current location is kind of a broken-down, vintage theatre just within the walls. Even though the physical aspects of the building were eery and covered in a layer of dust, I could sense auras of inspiration and optimism. Just by videotaping inside the walls of the Playhouse, I can spread its message and impact to so many places. My field placement at the Nerve Center has taught me this. The Nerve Center can change lives through the content of their projects, but also through the sheer process of escaping through developing technological skills.


The process of these two organizations, the Nerve Center and the Playhouse, reminds me of the experimental method. They both generated a hypothesis that they could improve the condition of the their country and developed a formula to enact it. Both have changed over their lifetime by testing and modifying what works and what does not. This analogy led me to a comparison between Northern Ireland’s history and the song “Winding Road” by Bonnie Somerville. I think the idea of looking towards new ways to escape pain, in this case the sectarian conflict, is embodied in the chorus (the music to my slideshow):

It’s a winding road / I’ve been walking for a long time / I still don’t know where it goes / It’s a long way home / I’ve been searching for a long time / I still have hope I’m gonna find my way home

The narrator clearly started off in a period of distress, which led her to search for a way home, probably a place with more tranquility than she feels now. For the past few centuries Northern Ireland has followed this winding road. Recently they have found ways to progress from the chaos of the past, but there is still no clear endpoint in sight. They are still looking and still hoping that the people of the country can find their way home.

Hands across my personal divide

Casey and I went into the Nerve Centre on Tuesday knowing that we would spend a good amount of time shooting video out in the world. Actually, we started off doing the same things we did last week. The computer work was tedious, but we got it done. Then Brendan started to drive us around for our video shoot as he did last Thursday. Cara joined us with her video equipment to get footage for her personal project as well. With all of us carrying around our different equipment, we looked like the production team for a major blockbuster. First we went to the “Hands Across the Divide” statue in Derry, then to Grianan, a 2000-year-old circular structure, and finished at the Craigan cemetery.

Without any direct interaction with people who are passionate about the Troubles, I have only been able to draw unsophisticated conclusions so far. In one of our first lectures we heard two members of React, NW express their views on hope for democracy in the future through voices electrified with dismay for the present conflict. Then on Monday we took tours of sectarian murals in Belfast, one led by a former IRA prisoner and the other led by a former Loyalist prisoner. I actually can feel these extreme experiences trying to shape my study in Northern Ireland. However, I’m beginning to feel that the program doesn’t address the neutrality that I find in my personal travels around Derry. Sectarianism was definitely more obvious during our day in Belfast but since we have been stationed in Derry, it hasn’t been too hard for me to find examples of apathetic people or even peace-loving neutrals.

The Hands Across the Divide statue rests next to the old bridge that crosses over the River Foyle. It represents the two communities, Protestant and Catholic, reaching out over the river the walls. The hands aren’t exactly touching, which I think reflects the current state of affairs. You can imagine these two large stone figures embracing in the future, but at present, they are simply hesitantly extending their hands. I have seen this unconfirmed peace since I arrived in Northern Ireland. On the one hand, the Bucknell in Northern Ireland program introduced us to separate worlds consisting of Protestant or Catholic and the idea that neutrality does not exist, while my personal experience shows me that some people don’t care as much and don’t bother with sectarianism in their everyday life.


Research says that only a very small percentage of people in Northern Ireland associate themselves with neither religion. The statistics I’ve encountered suggest that at some point I will run into someone with classically one-sided views. To the contrary, the only times I’ve experienced any type of almost extreme views is during our already set up lectures. I know that the Nerve Center is a hub for gathering people from all views, and maybe this is contributing to my shielded view. One of the goals of the Nerve Center is to bring together Protestants and Catholics and help them forget their differences, I guess by skirting their ingrained tensions. I think this might contribute to my disconnect with the Troubles. While I am not encountering the dramatic experiences I expected, I think that what I’m seeing are valid observations.

I’m just now discovering that I can only blame myself for not finding stories of the conflict. I’m not reaching out and asking questions that will cut deep into the heart of the Troubles. At home, in Pittsford and in Lewisburg, I obsess over the peace I find in nature. I’ve noticed that I am continuing to revere nature before all else here as well (e.g. my reaction to Tory Island). Northern Ireland is the perfect place to see peace in nature, but its scenery does not mirror the cultural landscape by any means. I made this connection at Grianan, a summit from which you can see rolling hills and bodies of water in any direction, otherwise known as my personal paradise.

From now on I need to extract the psychological conflict that resides in an externally undisturbed countryside. I felt myself starting to do this a little bit when we visited the Craigan, a cemetery in one of the biggest Catholic housing projects. After episodes like that when Brendan could barely navigate to this famous landmark, I've given up on probing him for history on the Troubles. We were in a most spiritual place that holds so much history, but all I could do was appreciate "what meets the eye." I wanted to know personal stories and histories of the cemetery. Overall, Tuesday's shoot made me aware of the fact that I need to be more autonomous in my quests for knowledge on the Troubles. I can't rely on the contacts created for me by the program. In summary: so far I have only personally encountered middle-of-the-road views of the Troubles, but I know so much more exists out there. Right now I pledge to mimic Derry's famous statue: actively seek a wider spectrum of views and people's involvement in a continuously transforming peace process.

Honoring History

Upon entering the Café Nervosa on Tuesday, our third placement day, I ran into Mervin. He asked me how the weekend went, to which I didn’t know how to begin my response. The closest description I could formulate of my visit to Tory Island was a near spiritual rebirth. The small island (8 km across) with 125 inhabitants off the coast of Donegal seemed to have the perfect existence. My first impression was that successful poets must use landscapes like Tory Island’s to inspire their deepest inner explorations. The vast incline, almost desert-like, culminates in dramatic cliffs meeting the ocean with crashing waves. Looking back, I see that I can tie together so many aspects of my life right there on Tory Island, with all of my BUNI experiences fitting around it like pieces in a puzzle.
After my apparent display of enthusiasm, Mervin mentioned that the Nerve Centre had recently paired up with some kids on a movie featuring Tory Island. I was pleased that Mervin and I could connect over something outside of our immediate environment. The movie explores the revival of Séan Nos Nua music on Tory Island. It is an old type of music that passes from generation to generation through very informal instruction. However, just before the development of a secondary school on the island, youth interest in the traditional music started to fade. With the arrival of new technology on the island, educators started to couple modern tools with age-old Irish folk music. This technique sparked a new curiosity regarding Séan Nos Nua. I realize now that I have seen this theme of solidifying a basis for remembering one’s heritage many times.

In the lobby of the Nerve Centre there is a Digital Video Archive that was recently compiled to unite a century’s worth of footage filmed in Northern Ireland. It highlights different eras but noticeably it does not focus on any specific aspect of the Troubles (the main purpose of our course), which is something I have been struggling with during my placement at the Nerve Centre (addressed in my next post). This treasury of video stories acts as a tribute to the dynamic history of Northern Ireland. We sorted through videos ranging from an early 20th century circus visit to modern feature length films. Searching beyond my placement, I found another example of logging the past in our lecture on Belfast murals at Belfast Exposed.

On Monday morning, during our first trip to Belfast, Bill Rolston walked us through the history of murals in Northern Ireland. He surprised me in saying that no one before him decided to formally document the mural scene throughout the country. Specific murals have come and gone over the past century, but the tradition is still as strong and seemingly as effective today as when it started. Rolston described the tension between the prevalence of Protestant paramilitary paintings and the more sweeping themes of Catholic ones. Without his mural anthologies and analyses, I would not have realized the significance of changing the faces of walls. Rolston showed us a chronology through different movements and international influences that could only be recognized when comparing murals from different time periods.

Even though the story on Tory Island’s music culture revolves around a town in the Republic of Ireland that does not happen to be plagued by sectarian conflict, I decided to draw parallels anyway. This movie opened my eyes to the current passion for commemorating the past in modes other than sectarian memorials. Prior to watching it, I felt little connection to the Nerve Centre other than recognizing its relevance to my grade. After, I realized that I have the opportunity to be a part of an organization that is leading not only this city and country but the entire island (Ireland) in memorializing its past. I’m hoping to extend this principle of commemoration to our final video project in which we will highlight the impression Northern Ireland made on us as well as the footprints we left in Northern Ireland.

My thoughts up to Sunday, May 18: Northern Ireland is a cold, gray place with its peoples carrying the same description. Monday: uh no, not at all. After barely settling in right next to the River Foyle, we toured the walled city. My original dreams of lush scenery were more than satisfied on the warm, sunny Monday morning. Even though we’ve been concentrating on the sectarian conflict that has plagued the country during the past, Tour Guide Martin insisted that the past twelve months have seen a new, peaceful light. It was the first time I’d heard this, but throughout the first day I heard it again and again. The combination of the great weather, a newfound energy grace à espresso, and Martin’s cheerful tales, my first impression of Derry led me towards a serious optimism for everything to come.


After a long sleep Casey and I first set out for the Nerve Center on Tuesday morning. The trek should have been 15-20 minutes, but after journeying around the Bogside, marching up the 20% grade hill to the wall, and making loops around the city centre, we finally made it in 35 minutes. Our first day and a half mirrored my experience with the pre-session BUNI video project: we didn’t have a specific goal and oh were we plagued with technological hindrances. Even so, our mentor Brendan and the director Mervin (a wizard [read Merlin] and magical problem solver), tried to help us develop a plan. It was hard for me, confined within the 65 square foot computer room, to see how any of this could enhance my knowledge and personal experience regarding the current state of the troubles. The only two people I encountered, Brendan and Mervin, stuck to the business of Final Cut and video production tips… it didn’t seem like they were ready to delve into the serious issues that have tormented Northern Ireland forever.

Our second afternoon (Thursday), probably could not have been any more drastically different than our previous experiences. Seriously – if Tuesday was Food Lion, Thursday was Wegmans. Finally my bright cheeriness from the first day returned. Mervin gathered up a load of video equipment and sent us out into the surrounding world. We decided to take advantage of the gadgets at the Nerve Center and create a final project highlighting the Bucknell in Northern Ireland program. To catch our first reflections on Derry and its famous neighborhood distinctions, Brendan drove us over to the Waterside. He had no idea how to navigate the streets of this neighborhood clad with red, white and blue. I was shocked at his subtle admission to the blatant neighborhood segregation. Even though Brendan lives out in the country, he still comes into Derry most days of the week to go to the Nerve Center and I guess I just expected he knew how to get around everywhere. We were literally a ½ mile away from the bridge over the River Foyle, but the residents apparently remain worlds apart.


After I asked Brendan to share his thoughts on the issue, he responded, “Ay, I have opinions.” That was it – but at that moment I felt our communication lines opening up. I think Casey could sense this loosening up too, as she and Brendan joked about her eagerness to snap photos of our chauffeur. It took a little bit of initial discomfort for us to learn so much more than we expected about the other side of the river. Historically Protestants have been the “superior” group, holding a majority of power and with the crown on their side. However, my first impression of the Waterside neighborhoods was that it is a desolate, less lively community. Next we set up our video equipment in the Catholic neighborhood, Top of the Hill. I found it hard to imagine that our breathtaking view of the river was obstructed by British fortifications only one year ago. This is a place where strong tension still exists and violence has continued over the past twelve months, an otherwise peaceful time. This was another eye-opening piece of information, considering that I had neither heard of this neighborhood nor heard of recent acts of aggression. I was happy we were hearing this grimacing information from Brendan, such a fun-loving guy. His fun, colorful spirit brought out an inner-sunshine on our first rainy day.

Destination: Derry

Our journey (second star to the right and straight on till morning...) is only 45 hours away.  It's been exciting (and tiring) getting everything packed and together.  Tomorrow morning I'm off to New Jersey to spend my last two full days in the US and then finally the moment we have been preparing for will arrive!