“Letter From …” is a monthly column featuring a piece from a Mainer, or person with ties to this state, who is living or traveling far from home. University of Maine lecturer Kay Retzlaff’s “Introduction to Irish Culture” class traveled early this past spring to Galway, Ireland, where they attended classes at the University College Galway. Retzlaff and some of her students wrote the following piece.

We raced a snowstorm to get out of Bangor. The majority of the class took the 11:15 a.m. Concord Trailways bus to Logan Airport. We were booked to fly out of Boston on Aer Lingus, the Irish airline, at 8:15 p.m. After wending our way around the Big Dig, we finally made the airport around 4 p.m. We exchanged some U.S. dollars for Irish pounds, and the students remarked on how the money looked odd (different sizes and colors) and that it was going to be difficult to take it seriously. I assured them that it spent as rapidly as American dollars.

It was about then that the snow started. It snowed and snowed and snowed. It was not reassuring to see six snowplows in phalanx clearing the runway.

A man finally announced over the public address system that the airport was down to one runway, that its lights had been down for some time, but were now up and running. He commented that planes had been queuing and circling for more than an hour. One British Airways jet had been circling Boston for 50 minutes. Canadian flights were being canceled.

It didn’t look like we were ever going to make it out of Boston. Then Aer Lingus announced it would start boarding at 7:30 p.m., which it did. I met the pilot as he came on board the plane. He was laughing and shaking off the snow.

“It’s really snowing out there,” he said. I told him it couldn’t possibly be snowing because spring was only two weeks away. He laughed harder. I then asked him to swear that we would have nothing but days of sunshine in Ireland. “Of course,” he said. He then laughed really hard.

We sat on the tarmac for more than hour while the plane was de-iced. There was no air conditioning while we waited. It got hot and uncomfortable. Finally, we took off, and we had a tail wind that wasn’t wasting any time. We left an hour later than we should have, but arrived at Shannon Airport in Ireland only 20 minutes late. I still haven’t figured out how the pilot managed that.

It was slightly foggy when we arrived, but the grass was green. The daffodils were bright yellow. Even the forsythia was in bloom. There were newborn lambs in the fields.

We were met by Ken Hartmann, our bus driver, tour guide Donal Taheny, a retired school teacher, and Maeve Cuffe, the person from the Continuing Education Division at University College Galway who put the trip together for us. – Kay Retzlaff

When we arrived in Galway, it was 7:30 a.m., which was 2:30 a.m. Maine time. I was extremely tired from the overnight flight and very excited at the same time. Saturday and Sunday were learning experiences for me. I felt as if I were separated from the people of Galway, peering through a glass, trying to discover what this new world was all about.

The first time that I truly felt as though I were part of this wondrous place was when our group went to a pub to experience a night of music and poetry in Gaelic and English. (Cork musician John Spillane played his guitar and sang ballads. Irish language poet Louis de Paor read his poetry.)

I was captivated by the poetry and music. Gaelic is a very beautiful language. Combined with the lilt of the Irish voice and the experience of having my first Guinness in Ireland, it made an event that I am not likely to forget for a long time to come. – Suzanne Warner

Being a Yank in Ireland is a different experience. As soon as you step off the plane you know you stand out in the crowd. We walk, talk and act differently, and the Irish know it.

Walking to class one day, a group of Irish girls commented on how they knew I was a Yank. “Just look at how she dresses!” Another said, “I know she’s a Yank. I just know it.” When I walk around campus I get stared at and people in shops get annoyed while you try to count out the right amount of change. But, it isn’t all bad. Some of the Irish seem fascinated with Yanks.

I had some interesting conversations with a couple of Irish girls. We agreed on how awful Ricky Martin was. They preferred techno. Although I’ve been gawked at, I really don’t mind. I think they’d experience the same in America. – Jennie Carr

Ireland is struggling to prevent a possible epidemic of foot-and-mouth disease that could crush agriculture. In addition to disinfectant mats, sprays and other protective measures, we have been blocked entry to many of the sites that lured me into spending my fall tuition on this trip! My own economic tragedy is minor compared to this situation which pits tourism and agriculture against each other in a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t weighing of national priorities.

Despite the limitations placed on our adventures, we may still be getting our money’s worth. We are visiting during a significant turning point in Irish history, in which the Irish must weigh the importance of agriculture and farming heritage against the recent jackpot of tourism. – Morgan Titus

We’ve been to lectures on Irish culture that are different in style from lectures in the States. They last for 11/2 hours and take the form of a story. The professor will come in and talk for the whole time. Irish schools are experiencing greater enrollment now, with the booming technology market. Many U.S. computer companies are setting up branches in the U.K. Anyone with a chance for an education has a good job opportunity in this field. – Ed Fitzgerald

Ireland, after five days, is still as much a paradox as it was on Day One. The myths and preconceptions are here, wrapped in the modernity that has eked in with globalization. Around us are the stone goliaths of the past, edging around the steel and iron of today. We’ve seen the frolicking lambs, the majestic cathedrals filled with power and beauty, and all the other postcard lovelies.

But beyond this feast for the eyes, there is the perfect flow of music for the ears. One club belts out Bono, much to our delight, which sent us into paroxysms of singing and leaping. The small pubs shelter more traditional sounds such as from John Spillane. (We even saw the house where The Police recorded one of their records.) Music is all around us, aligning the “old” Ireland, which inhabits the tourism books with the “new” Celtic Tiger roaring onto the global market.

So what are the memories so far? To sum it up in song, it’s been a beautiful day with or without you Roxanne, and I’m here stuck in the middle with you. Hi Mom! – Mackenzie Harris

I recently had an opportunity to sit down with an Irish native at a local pub. Al, a twentysomething male from outside Galway, and I discussed for hours the stereotypes we had both been taught our whole lives.

Americans think all Irish drink Guinness in the pubs. I had the Guinness. Al laughed and raised his Budweiser. “Why do all you Americans come over here and drink Guinness?”

When Americans try to do an Irish accent, we always sound like the guy from the Lucky Charms commercial. When the Irish try to do American English, they either sound like cowboys or gangsters.

After a few pints, the U.S. students started talking about semipersonal aspects of our relationships. Al laughed and said, “Americans are deep. We’d never have a talk like this.” Al said the Irish would be uncomfortable with such topics.

We discussed the American stereotype of the Irish as heavy drinkers, who spend a lot of time in pubs and who drag themselves home late into the night. From what I’ve experienced so far in Galway, you’re more likely to see a leprechaun than to see a staggering Irishman. They have more pride – and more common sense – than young Americans on spring break.

Poor Al stood firm in his belief that all Americans are born wealthy. He thought we are all extremely rich. I hated to burst his idealistic bubble of my country, so I let him have that one. – Tessa Byard

One day, after attending classes all day, I decided to strike out on my own and explore the hidden beauty of Galway.

Every morning on my way to and from class, we always pass over a bridge with a little river path beside it. I never had the opportunity to just take my time and walk along this pathway and to take in all the sights.

Walking along the cobblestone path along the River Corrib was a wonderfully refreshing experience after the long bus and plane rides we had to take, as well as being trapped all day in the college.

As I was walking along the river, I was captured by the serenity. Swans glided gracefully beside me without a care in the world, and the sounds of the river rushing through the man-made dams nearly drowned out the noise of the city.

I got caught in a sudden downpour, which is a common occurrence in Ireland. Being so far from town, I had nowhere to seek refuge but a little bridge nearby. Just as suddenly as it began, the rain stopped. There was a rainbow. I just stood there, taking in the picturesque scene of the River Corrib running wildly beside a giant rock wall covered with ivy, and a rainbow arching over Galway.

I stood there for another moment and got caught in a second downpour. I headed for dryer places. – Veronica Gifford