There were two countries I'd been especially looking forward to visiting more than any other: Ireland and Italy. I'm really not sure why I'm so enamored by them, although I am sure it's no coincidence that these two countries are precisely the two I have roots in. I'm pretty far removed from both places and I don't feel a strong cultural connection to either one, but I was still hoping for some kind of "click" upon arrival, an immediate and inherited sensation of belonging. It's very cliché and even ridiculous, as if the spirits of my ancestors would fill me with some satisfaction as I step on their soil, but that was my dream.
As I stepped off the plane and inhaled that first breath of emerald air in Dublin, there was no "click," but I still had a strong feeling I was really going to enjoy Ireland regardless. The only plan I had was to fly into Dublin and then eight days later fly out of Cork in the south; everything in-between was still uncharted territory. My old roommate flew in to travel this still-embryonic trip with me, and our reunion called for a traditional Irish celebration in a pub. On the Camino I did through northern Spain I met a recently-married couple from Dublin, and we arranged to meet up with them to see the city with native Dubliners. That famous Irish hospitality really showed as they took us on our own personal pub crawl with friends, and I can't remember a moment when there wasn't a drink in my hand. The first time someone in the group asked me, "What are you drinking?" I thought it was just curiosity. But after several times of being asked and then magically receiving another pint, I quickly learned that the question was really a less loquacious version of "I've got next round, what should I get you." Meeting people like Clare and Jared is one of the most invaluable parts of traveling, and I hope I can provide them an equally great night when they make it out to California.
I'm always mentally rating the cities I visit based on livability, and Dublin definitely scored a place in the top 3 European cities along with Madrid and Lisbon (I guess I'm attracted to countries in crisis?). The environment of the city seemed constantly jovial despite the rain, and the genuine kindness of the locals gave no hint of economic problems. It was bittersweet to leave because three days just didn't seem enough, but the unanimous praise I had been hearing for the scenery on the west coast gave me something to look forward to.
The next destination was Galway, one of the biggest cities in Ireland but still pretty small by any other standards. This included a day trip to the Cliffs of Moher, which I appreciated not only because they are breathtakingly gorgeous, but also because they were familiar to me from the sixth Harry Potter movie (think of Harry and Dumbledore in the sea about to enter the cave with Voldemort's horcrux). The landscape in the entire country is all idyllic; from Dublin to Cork, every square centimeter is just as green as you would imagine--even in the middle of July--and grazing sheep between dry stone fences only added to the picturesque quality.
Through my travels this year, I've finally discovered the secret to a perfect trip: bicycles. Renting a bike has always resulted in fantastic days, and riding the bucolic roads from Cork to Blarney was no exception. After excessive bus trips, it was nice to actually be outside in the landscape instead of just seeing it through a window. We were even lucky enough to have sunshine and blue skies instead of rain, like a little farewell gift from Ireland to send us off.
As I stepped off the plane and inhaled that first breath of emerald air in Dublin, there was no "click," but I still had a strong feeling I was really going to enjoy Ireland regardless. The only plan I had was to fly into Dublin and then eight days later fly out of Cork in the south; everything in-between was still uncharted territory. My old roommate flew in to travel this still-embryonic trip with me, and our reunion called for a traditional Irish celebration in a pub. On the Camino I did through northern Spain I met a recently-married couple from Dublin, and we arranged to meet up with them to see the city with native Dubliners. That famous Irish hospitality really showed as they took us on our own personal pub crawl with friends, and I can't remember a moment when there wasn't a drink in my hand. The first time someone in the group asked me, "What are you drinking?" I thought it was just curiosity. But after several times of being asked and then magically receiving another pint, I quickly learned that the question was really a less loquacious version of "I've got next round, what should I get you." Meeting people like Clare and Jared is one of the most invaluable parts of traveling, and I hope I can provide them an equally great night when they make it out to California.
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| Future home? |
The next destination was Galway, one of the biggest cities in Ireland but still pretty small by any other standards. This included a day trip to the Cliffs of Moher, which I appreciated not only because they are breathtakingly gorgeous, but also because they were familiar to me from the sixth Harry Potter movie (think of Harry and Dumbledore in the sea about to enter the cave with Voldemort's horcrux). The landscape in the entire country is all idyllic; from Dublin to Cork, every square centimeter is just as green as you would imagine--even in the middle of July--and grazing sheep between dry stone fences only added to the picturesque quality.
Through my travels this year, I've finally discovered the secret to a perfect trip: bicycles. Renting a bike has always resulted in fantastic days, and riding the bucolic roads from Cork to Blarney was no exception. After excessive bus trips, it was nice to actually be outside in the landscape instead of just seeing it through a window. We were even lucky enough to have sunshine and blue skies instead of rain, like a little farewell gift from Ireland to send us off.
