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Moving Around & Being Home

Writer's picture: Alana DagenhartAlana Dagenhart

“Body mobility, rather than rootedness and authenticity, was the key component to the understanding of place.” 

—David Seamon’s idea, as explained by Tim Cresswell, in Place: An Introduction


44°, Fahrenheit. Drizzle. Sunrise tomorrow 8:19a.m. Current time, 11:11p.m.


I feel like I’m home now. This begins my fifth week in Belfast, and things are starting to feel familiar. I’ve got the mile walk to campus down to the minute. I know which cross-walk is the best for the shortest time, and how long it will take to get to any given location, provided I am wearing the proper shoes. I’ve learned when to go to the Tesco, and which pickles I like. I found a killer second-hand store, Deja Vu, (if you can call it that), where you can find “pre-loved” designer clothes and shoes. Dang, I went twice in two days. I found that Lagan Meadows leads to the river and connects to Clement Wilson Park, at the Shaw Bridge, which leads to Minnowburn.


I participated in a poetry reading at The Seamus Heaney Centre on the theme of “FLOW.” The reading consisted of ten readers and a musician. I wrote a three-part poem about rivers and the effects of hurricane Helene in the North Carolina mountains, and made a video backdrop to play behind me while I read. It was nerve wracking, scary, and fun.


I met with the rest of the Northern Ireland Fulbright contingency, two people from St. Louis, one from Brooklyn, and another from Birmingham. It felt good to talk to others who are also far from home and to hear about their projects and adventures abroad.


On Mondays, I’ve been meeting with Irish studies professors for coffee and then attending the Irish studies lectures that happen each week. Last week the speaker spoke about rebel women of the IRA, real badasses, who supplied male counterparts with weapons they hid in their prams. Tonight's talk was on The Elmes Letters, which document a family’s exchanges during the time surrounding the rebellion of 1798. 


On Wednesdays, I am attending an Irish Set dancing class at Crescent Arts Centre. It is fantastic and incredibly hard! So far we are learning the figures for the Sliabh Luachra, which is dominated by a polka step, which translates to a lot of jumping back and forth, which results in a sweaty session. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good dance session, and am up for the challenge. Our teacher is the most talented Eimear Magee from Mayobridge, County Down. She’s a dance instructor, a trad fiddler, and a textile artist. Check out her work on ‘Eimear Magee Art’, where “she creates intricate pieces that honor the resilience and creativity of Ireland’s traditions, with her work deeply connected to Irish traditional music” (crescentarts.org).


On Friday, we had the "storm of the century," Storm Éowyn. It blew winds of 114mph in Galway. I think it was the same system that covered the U.S. in snow. All of Ireland was shut down for the day, and there were lots of power disruptions, downed trees, and structures damaged in Belfast. The wind was terrific, and I enjoyed watching the trees blow back and forth, as long as they didn’t come down around me. My tree-lined street was littered with trash bins, metal signs, and sticks, but no real damage that I could see. My power is back on, wifi works, and the chainsaws in the distance have ceased. 


The experience of the storm is all part of being here. Moving around the place, my apartment, the Tesco, the bricked walk to campus, the dance floor, the path by the river, helps me understand and know this part of Belfast, on this day, in this time. Every movement and habit of movement I learn, forms a “time-space routine” which creates an “existential insideness—a feeling of belonging within the rhythm of life in place” (Cresswell, 64). 


I’m learning so much it hurts. I have to stretch all the time. The physical number of pages to read, the weight of the history, and the adjustment is difficult. But it is equally thrilling, and important. I am remembering what growth feels like.


The days are getting longer. We are up to almost nine hours of daylight now, and if nothing else, a trail run and some gherkins have made me feel at home. 







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