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| 29 October | Waterford |  |
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We're almost there. I'm excited to be getting back. I couldn't relax, so I went with the others into the nightclub and looked out the forward windows, peering through the rain and waves. I breezed through passport control on arrival at Rosslare harbor, just flashing the passport to the guard. Not like Pakistan... Next, I waited in line at tourist information to get a Travel Save sticker on my student card to save on bus fares, but they were out. The bus to Waterford left while I waited, and the 2 Yanks took it. Bye! After failing with the Travel Save sticker, I went back to inquire about the next bus. Not until 7:00 tonight? No! Maybe I'll stay here until tomorrow... Then, I spotted the Aussies. They rented a car for their week here. Their first stop will be Cork. I related my bad luck, to which they immediately responded, "Want a ride?" Hey yeah! Drop me in Waterford as you pass through. Good deal. After picking up their car, we drove through the wet green Irish countryside. I could just feel the stress leaving me. When we got to Waterford, they dropped me off in town and continued on for Cork. Bye guys, thanks! Now to find a room... The book said there was a hostel, but they have had problems... So, I walked over to tourist information. Closed. OK, I'll try this B&B. Nope, they have no single rooms, try Rice B&B. Nope, they have no singles, do you have a car?... After walking from place to place (it would have paid to buy a phone card...), I finally found a room at Derrnane B&B. It's very nice for £14, but more than I need. |
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| 30 October | Waterford | |
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Today was a bank holiday, so everything was closed. I was still adjusting to being in Ireland again, but I wanted to get out and see some people. My kind host suggested I take the Waterford factory tour. At first, I dismissed it as too touristy, but then I gave in to my curiosity. Despite my reluctance to be found with a tourist group, I found it interesting. I've always enjoyed watching craftspeople create their work, even in a factory setting. After the tour, I went back to chat with one of the artists as he created a crystal globe. Fascinating. They go through a strenuous selection process to work here. Testing, apprenticeships, years of practice before they're trusted to create real originals.
I spent most of the rest of the cold rainy day wandering around town, just loving the sound of all those Irish accents... Happy B-day Dad! Last time, wasn't it in Taupo, New Zealand? I've come a long way in the last year... |
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| 31 October | Waterford | |
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I didn't do much at all today. The hardest thing I did was buy an air ticket to NY, £124. The agent told me that there were no more boats from Ireland to the U.S. Damn. I'm not giving up yet, but I don't want to risk not getting home because I can't buy a ticket right before Xmas. The hardest part about it all was facing the fact that I will be returning home soon, that my travels are ended. Part of me is extremely relieved at the fact, but the rest of me howls in protest at the mere thought. It is time.
In the evening, it was time to celebrate Holloween. I went out for a few pints of the good stuff, but alone alas. A lass, yeah, that's what I need! I met a couple girls who were dressed up (the only ones I saw all night) but they had to leave early, going back to work. They recommended the Roxy for a place to dance after the pub shuts down. I checked it out, despite feeling awkward alone. They had a good Pink Floyd-type band playing. I drank too much, met a Spanish girl who spoke no English, but enjoyed the night anyway... |
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| 1 November | Kilkenny | |
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It's time to move on. I used another day on my remaining Eurail to take the train to Kilkenny. The hostel was nice and easy to find. It had a very unfriendly feel though, with not too many travellers around. This worries me because I'd rather not spend the next couple months alone.
After leaving my bag in my room, I went out to sitesee. Me? Yeah, whatever. The day was blazing cold, but I bundled up in my old fleece and rain jacket and braved the weather. St. Canice church, very nice. It wasn't elaborate like Notre Dame in Paris, but instead had a clean, healthy feel to it. The Black Abbey, eh. This is a nice town. It has a good old feel, yet the living is easy, with many shops - something that still hasn't lost its fascination for me after store-less Pakistan, Iran... I shopped for supplies to make my world famous chicken cacciatore and returned to the hostel to cook. At first, the kitchen was empty, but it soon filled up as travellers arrived. After a good filling dinner, I went out to the Pumphouse pub across the street for a couple with a group from Australia and New Zealand... |
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| 2 November | Kilkenny | |
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I spent the day touring around town again with the others I met last night. We tried to get into the castle, but they had some special event going on today. Entrance was only allowed with an invitation. Oh that's right, we left ours at home. Our next move was to rent bikes. Nope, the place was closed on Thursdays. OK, now what? I gave up and went back to hostel to sit by the warm fire all day and read.
That evening, the group of us went out for some traditional music at Ryans. I was feeling a little under the weather, but 3 pints still went down fine... |
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| 3 November | Kilkenny | |
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The others moved on today, so once again, I was alone. Sniff.
The castle was open today, so I went to visit. The 1 hour tour was rather interesting. There was a short movie on the history of the castle, and then a tour of the grounds. Most of what we saw has only been open a year now. They had tried to restore it to be as authentic as they could manage. The entire place had a Victorian decor. Bright colors, yellow, blue, as it really used to be, lovely art (originals). And the Long Gallery, wow. I met another Melbourne girl on the tour. We grabbed lunch together at a good sandwich shop in town and chatted as we warmed our numb fingers on hot cups of tea, talking of travels in all parts of the world. Then she collected her things to leave for Dublin, and home. Short encounters are a part of travelling... Once again, I felt like visiting the church. Ireland's priests are a funny bunch. There was one spot in the church where a name on a plaque of benefactors was scratched out. I found out later that a deacon had an argument with the archbishop, so he took the Christian approach, turned the other cheek, and then came back at night and scratched the archbishop's name (but not the title) off. At Cashel, another priest burned a church to the ground because he thought an archbishop was in there. And so on. The clouds were turning black again, so I quickly returned to the hostel, there to meet a very strange lass from Wellington, NZ. Her look was, oh I don't know, Romulan comes to mind. She had pale white skin, blazing crystal blue eyes, she was almost as tall as I am, and a hair style right from Star Trek. She was very strange, but nice, and we had a fine chat. She had quite a good tape collection as well, and so the cold evening was ignored and the fire in the hearth warmed our bones. |
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| 4 November | Cashel | |
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I woke up early enough to catch my bus to Cashel this morning, but then decided to hell with it, and fixed breakfast instead. There was another bus at 11:15, so I waited for that one after spending a long leisurely breakfast.
Just as I was about to leave, I started talking with a few folk also on their way out. On the bus? "Nah, we have a car." Oh? Can I get a lift? "Sure." Nice and easy. I found the Cashel hostel completely empty. The manager's brother had just injured his arm in a Hurling match when I got there, and he gave me the keys to take care of the place for the night. I spent the evening watching television, fixed a quick dinner, and gave up on anyone else showing. It's a nice new hostel, too bad it's empty. |
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| 5 November | Cashel | |
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Out to see the Rock. £1. It was very impressive. The entire place was in ruins, but there was more than enough left to see what used to be there. An entire complex of churches from all eras rose straight up from the flat lands around it. When you first enter the site, you go through the Hall of the Vicars, a cozy place containing many of the originals taken from this site. It had the original Saint Patrick's Cross, that simple high cross you see elsewhere. Inside the site, I liked Cormac's Chapel best. It was built sometime in the 1130's, but the carvings and sarcophagus inside were exquisite. Some of these buildings go all the way back to the tenth century. I liked the graveyard as well, and spent most of the day wandering the area, sitting out of the wind and soaking in the vibes.
Another empty night at the hostel. |
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| 7 November | Cork | |
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I haven't given up yet on finding a boat to America, but I have had very little luck. The only answer I have heard from people is that the passenger liners haven't run for decades and no one can give me a name of a freighter going my way. That's not the answer I want to hear, so I persist.
In the evening, I called my old manager Lori at work. "Hi!" Yes, I still have my job. But I guess I was closer to losing it than I realized. Business is booming, with more work than they can handle. It's a big change since when I left. She wouldn't say what she planned for my next assignment, but it almost sounded as if my type of work is a much smaller part of the business now, so I will have to make some changes. We'll see... "Better to live one day as a lion than one thousand years as a lamb." - Tibetan proverb |
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| 8 November | Cork | |
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Again, I didn't do much all day today, just continued to readjust to the idea I was going home. On my way back from dinner, I stopped into Frontier Communications to access the Internet! £5/hour for email, web, and news. I finally got to see Russell's web page - his journals, all fancied up. Very well done. I spent most of my hour checking it out. I managed to send an email to Mom and to Russell, then quickly checked on rec.travel, but found only the usual garbage there.
I've been feeling poor for the last two days now. I think it's only a Flu, but it's only been less than 4 weeks since I left Africa, so I still can't rule out malaria. Um. |
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| 9 November | Cork | |
| I'm truly sick today. My joints are aching, my temperature is through the roof, my head hurts like a demon. Please let it be the flu, please. Ow. | ||
| 10 November | Killarney | |
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And the verdict is: flu. Today I woke up still aching and weak, but well on my way back to health. Up and out.
A £5 bus took me to Killarney in 2 hours. I checked into the Neptune hostel, which was nice enough. As soon as I sat down in the common room, Toni - a Canadian girl from the night out in Cork - walked in. "Hi!" She told me Killarney's lovely, but it has no nightlife. She was on her way to Dingle, one step ahead of me. |
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| 11 November | Killarney | |
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The flu doesn't seem to be completely letting me go, but I wanted to get out today, so I took a walk in the park. It was a miserable day, dark, cold, and rainy. I saw Ross castle and a few other sights, but even though I was dry from the waist up, my legs became completely soaked from the chill sleet. I was cold and muddy, enough sightseeing for me.
But even this small effort was too much. That evening, a nasty cold seized my already weakened body firmly by the throat and made for a horrible night. |
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| 12 November | Killarney | |
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I woke up today feeling truly sick. I decided to just spend the day indoors bundled up by the fire and convalesce. It's too bad. This was the first perfectly warm sunny day I've seen since arriving in Ireland.
Today's accomplishments? I read a 450 page book cover to cover. |
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| 13 November | Dingle | |
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I woke up this morning half alive, but at least improved from yesterday. I wanted a change of scene, so I packed up my stuff and checked out of the hostel.
A bus at 1:00 would get me to Dingle, so I did laundry, etc. until then. But when I attempted to catch the bus, I became hopelessly lost in the few blocks it took to get to the stop. I missed the bus by 5 seconds as I watched it pull away. I was left with no choice but to return to the hostel for lunch and to wait 2 hours until the next bus. You can bet I caught it this time. In Dingle, the Grapevine hostel had been highly recommended by others in Killarney. Too bad, I found the place entirely full. "Do you have a reservation?" In the middle of November? All other hostels in town were either full or closed, so I then trudged the long dark way out to the Rainbow hostel. They have a van that greets the bus when it arrives, but by this time, they had long since returned home. What I found there was a very pleasant surprise. They had a big cozy kitchen with massive wooden eaves, radically painted rooms, friendly managers, and a bustling crowd of travellers. After dumping my bags on my bed, I sat talking with some girls in the room, Claire, Tracy, and Amy, as they got pissed on cheap red wine. Around 9:00, half the hostel went out to see Tony (the manager of the hostel) and Tony (a German guest) play a session at the Small Bridge pub. Very good music, too much Guinness... |
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| 14 November | Dingle | |
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I slept in late under wonderfully warm blankets and listened to the rain pissing on the windows. It was another cold, dark day. Today was going to be another day of recovery. I just wanted to hang out and complete my cure.
This part of the country is extremely beautiful. It is one of the Gaeltacht regions in Ireland, where Gaelic is still the dominent language and where ruined monasteries almost outnumber the tourists. Rough green land runs down to wild seas. That evening, I met Rebecca, a Canadian girl from Vancouver. She works for BC ferries, dealing with tourists all day. How horrible. We went out again to the pub to listen to Tony and others in a session. I brought my tin whistle along, but couldn't work up the nerve to join in. After a few pints it was a long rainy walk back. We sat up talking for hours until they wanted to close the kitchen, then went back into an empty twin room to talk some more. The conversation had a life of it's own. [We're still in touch years later, and every time we talk, my long-distance phone bill goes through the roof!] I didn't get to bed until about 3:00. And yes, alone. |
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| 15 November | Dingle | |
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Last night, Rebecca and I decided that we would rent a couple bikes, rain or shine and ride down to the Dingle peninsula. The weather today looked rather dodgy, but we're going to ride.
We spent a fun time there, clambering over rocks and dodging the waves. But then, groan moan, it was getting late, so we had to get back onto the bikes. We had a long dark ride back. It gets dark now about 5:00, so we ended up back in town long after the time we could see anything. Back in Dingle town, we went to the store for a few supplies, then back to hostel, feeling very sore indeed considering what an easy ride it was, ~36km. We shared a bottle of halfway decent red wine over dinner. Then of course out to pub again for yet more Irish music. During our ride today, I had joked with Rebecca about grabbing the twin room for us tonight. She grabbed the idea and brought it up later. But we couldn't get Tony alone all evening to ask if we could move. Rebecca was too embarrassed to ask one of the other girls, and I was no better. Even at the pub that night, we couldn't seem to get Tony away. So. After cleaning up, we just crashed in the double room with no permission. It was 12:00, the room was empty, we decided to take our chances... The hostel in general was rather chilly, but once we shut the door and turned up the heat, we were nice and toasty, rather than shivering and bundled up like everyone else. We're chatting away like a couple of gossips. She gave me a lovely back massage, and I returned the favor. I wasn't sure what she was expecting tonight. She had really pushed for the room, but the only signals I was receiving were friendship, so I relaxed and just enjoyed the company. Finally, we just curled up warm and cozy for the rest of the night. |
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| 16 November | Dingle | |
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We woke up early this morning to, ouch, return the bikes. Upon our return, Greg, an Aussie in my dorm room, remarked loudly that I never came to bed last night. Humph. We had planned to pay the difference in room rates this morning, but we were both embarrassed to broach the issue with Tony after the fact.
Rebecca's sadly moving on today to Killarney. Her birthday's in 2 days and she wants to be in Dublin then. We rushed to catch her bus and never got to talk to Tony. The hostel van took us into town, but once there, we discovered that the bus she tried to get only runs in the summer. (I read the schedule wrong.) There was a 2½ hour wait until next one. We left her bag at the Gardai station and wandered around town for the first time. After a quick lunch at a good sandwich shop, it was time for her bus, so we retrieved her bag and ran to the bus stop. I helped sling her (enormous) backpack on board. She gave a good hard hug goodbye, and off she goes. The hostel van took me home from there. Again, Greg loudly asked "Honeymoon over?" Yeah, yeah. In the hallway going back to my room, Tony delicately asked me "How many beds did you use last night?" Um. Two. Thanks for telling the truth, what do you intend to do about it? Pay the difference, of course. No, not necessary, but if the owner were here, you'd be out on the street. Sorry. I hung my head. It really soured the entire evening, plus I was tired to begin with. So all in all, it was not too energetic an evening. At least two people think I slept (you know what I mean) with Rebecca last night, but rather than macho pride in that, I felt ashamed. Oh well. No pub tonight. Suddenly, the phone rang. "Seán, it's for you!" Huh? Who knows I'm here? Oh, hi Rebecca! She was alone in Killarney at a hostel. So why'd she call me? Who knows. Maybe she was bored, maybe something else. Strange. |
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| 17 November | Doolin | |
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I had enough of the scandal, so I got out of the hostel as soon as I could. My next destination was Doolin, known for it's traditional Irish music, it's location near the Cliffs of Moher, and the Burren, a huge limestone expanse stretching up and down the coastline. It was rather difficult getting there from Dingle, there were poor bus connections. First, a bus to Tralee and a 3 hour wait. Then on to Limerick. Another long wait, and then finally on to Doolin, arriving 10 hours after leaving Dingle.
The Doolin hostel was just about empty. It was strange after busy Dingle. It had been a beautiful sunny day today, but tonight, the temperatures plummeted and it became painfully cold. Never one to sit in when there is Guinness to drink, I found a few girls staying here and drove (in their car) out to a pub. Good Guinness, lovely music, and a warm, busy, smoky pub. Good craic. |
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| 18 November | Doolin | |
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The people keep flashing by. I woke up early this morning to catch the 8:30 bus into Lisdornvarna with Linda, an American schoolteacher now living in Limerick. We were trying to rent a couple bikes to explore the area, but the Doolin hostel was finished renting for the year. We hoped to have better luck in Lisdornvarna, but it turned out to have the same situation. Damn.
We hitched a ride back to Doolin with a couple of Aussies who went out of their way to help us. Then we decided that we might as well walk to the Cliffs since we're stuck here. It was a very crystal day. We had a bright blue sky, no clouds, bitter winds, frost in the fields, and ice an inch thick on the puddles. It was a grand walk, following the way, passing a small castle, playing with the very friendly dogs along the way, greeting the occasional people we met. "Nice day isn't it?"
Back in Doolin, we sought out the old ruined church with an interesting graveyard for some very nice views of the area. We got back just in time to see the sunset on the ocean. Good day. Frozen pizzas made up our gourmet supper back at the hostel. [Goodfellows, not bad!] We were both chilled to the bone by the day, and trying to get warm again. My blood's still too thin after Asia and the tropics. As soon as our toes thawed out, of course we went out to the pub again, this time inviting a German girl named Elisa to join us. Out to McDermott's. The musicians were a skillful bunch, but I much preferred last night's more informal session. I'm still carrying my tin whistles with me, but I still haven't found the nerve to play. Linda had been looking forward to trying her first Guinness, but after one sip, she made a face and declared it horrible. Some people just have no taste... She seemed crushed, so I bought her a cider to try instead, and she loved it. I spent the evening splitting my attention between Linda and Elisa, as neither woman seemed to care much for the other. Between the day's activities, my now toasty (and toasted) state, and the good music, I was in a happy, dreamy state by the end of the evening.
We grabbed some steaming hot chips outside to keep us warm on the long cold walk back. Back at the hostel, a group warmed by the fire. One by one, the others drifted off to bed. Linda made a move to go, standing in doorway and making a big scene of making sure everyone else knew they should as well. OK, ok, I'm too warm to move right now... She finally left and I lay back on the couch next to Elisa, getting up the energy to move. Not yet. |
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| 19 November | Doolin | |
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I had some trouble today. I got up early as usual, and went down to prepare a huge breakfast. Hi Linda. "Hi." It was fine talking with her until Elisa walked in. Then things became awkward. How to deal? Who knows. Linda wants to go on another walk today, Elisa wants to stay in and "keep warm". It was another crystal day, bitterly cold, and I couldn't get warm, so I was more in favor of Elisa's suggestion. I spent a leisurely morning over a pot of tea until almost noon, when Linda finally gave up on me and stomped off.
Much later, after the sun was high in the sky and the day as warm as it would get, Elisa and I went down to docks and walked along the rocks a while, pausing a few times to take advantage of the privacy. I had planned to leave for Galway today, but the only bus leaves at 4:30, so I wouldn't get to Galway until maybe 9:00, with connections. After last night with Elisa, it seemed a good idea to stay on another night and take a direct bus with her to Galway in the morning. It's only logical, no? That afternoon, while Elisa and I were eating in the kitchen, Linda walked in, looking upset. Almost time for your bus? Yeah. She walked out. I looked at Elisa. Huh? Dense me couldn't understand why she was so upset. Maybe she loves you, Elisa suggested as a joke. Yeah right. What is it? Just before her bus, Linda stomped in, got a drink and left. OK, I'll see if she's OK. She was in the common room. I asked her if she was all right, and she started crying. Huh? "Yesterday was such a good day, I thought we'd be together." Huh? "Obviously you prefer Elisa, I feel like you blew me off." Huh? Oh. I guess I did.. I'm used to travelling, with its loose friendships, selfish motives, generous help, and all, but this was her first time out of the country. She thought what we did yesterday was more special than it was. Or at least it was to her. I didn't think twice about it, but she saw a guy asking her to join him for the day, telling stories, being very friendly, buying her drinks, sympathetically listening to her problems and offering advice, etc. In my or any other long term traveler's life, that's day to day routine, but back home, I guess that could be seen as a prelude to romance, or at least a serious friendship. So it hurt her when I hooked up with Elisa, and ditched her the next day. No matter what, I guess it was rude. She left, slamming the door open and running out without a goodbye. I really felt bad about it. Damn. I walked back to Elisa in the kitchen truly disturbed. She said she thought something was up from the way Linda was acting last night, but she didn't know we had spent the day together, so she just thought she was yet another girl interested in me. Of course. Happens to me all the time. Humph. |
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| 20 November | Galway | |
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No time for fun this morning, hurry up! We caught the 8:00 bus nice and direct to Galway. Once we got there, we went to my old haunts at the Corrib Villa hostel, where she lives while attending classes. I know this place! Galway hasn't changed much in 3½ years.
Elisa has classes at noon, so I had the afternoon off. Hoping to collect some mail, I went to the GPO. Yes! 3 letters. One from Mom and Dad, one from Beth - inviting me to New Years party, and one from Maureen. I didn't do much else all day, just a little wandering. That evening, I met Elisa's friends. They were merciless. |
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| 21 November - 24 November | ||
I've fallen rather behind in this journal, but I'm not in the mood to deal with it blow by blow. 
Topics? Elisa and I tearing up Galway, amusing her friends. There were no deep emotions involved, just straight out fun. Social: I met almost no one, very little drinking. One night out with Careena (German), Elisa, and myself at the Blue Note (nice), started with wine, continued with Guinness, and finished with wine. I had no problem with the beer, but the wine! Whoa. I was quite pissed by the end. Let's see, people: Lauradonna (Italian), Sophie(French - rrr), Christine (German), Thomas (German), plus others I can't remember. Elisa's birthday was 24 November, and we held a big surprise dinner for her. Good graze. Events: not much, just relaxed and had some fun. |
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| 25 November | Arainn (Inismor) | |
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It's time to move on again. Elisa joined me on a trip out to Inismor. A bus took us to the port, then we had a wait for the ferry. While waiting with Elisa, I saw a girl I recognized from the Limerick-Doolin bus. I walked over to say hi, and we started talking. She mentioned she had tried to find a boat from the States to take her here. What!? You too? "Huh?" I told her what I wanted to do, and she got excited. We arranged to meet in Dublin next week to join forces and see what we could find. Well, now, this could actually happen. On my own, I was just about to give up. But with someone else to help me find something, it could work.
The crossing to Arrain was rough, rain, winds, the waves tossing the tiny boat until I saw more than one person head for the head. I stood at the front of the boat with my feet braced apart and my lathi clutched in front of me, balancing on my toes as the boat crashed downwards. Once we got there, Elisa and I hitched a ride out to Mainistir House with one of the tour drivers. It was the only open hostel on the island. Full?! 80 students from Dublin filled the place. That's OK, there was a B&B across the street, £12 each for a very nice double. It's funny. The owner of this B&B's name is Connolly! Her husband's brother is also named Seán Francis Connolly. Small world. I wonder who we might be related from... After Mrs. Connolly showed us our room, we went out for a short walk to see the area. The weather would not cooperate, it was miserable, cold, and pissing rain. This place is beautiful though. I think I'm going to like it here! We soon went back to our room to get warm and nap. At 8:00, we crossed the street to eat at Mainistir. Whoops, dinner was served at 7:00, not 8:00, and we must book dinner ahead. Oh. The sign in our B&B was wrong, so we had to settle with a Snickers bar for dinner, and early to bed after a bit of TV. |
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| 26 November | Arainn | |
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We woke this morning just in time for a big breakfast. I like B&B's.
It's another very poor day. We didn't get out the door until after 1:00, but no matter. We strolled over to Dun Aengus, an impressive prehistoric fort overlooking marvelous cliffs. There is a very beautiful, powerful feel to this whole island. It is Magic. At 7:00, we once again crossed the street to Mainistir for dinner. There were only 7 of us in a cozy little room with a tiny fireplace. The air was filled with the smell of bread baking and for once, I was completely warm. It was an awesome dinner. Soup, then a very good veggie main course. Rice, potatoes, broccoli and beans, tomato sauce type dish, fresh baked bread. After, tea and coffee. Very nice. I was feeling a little under the weather though. I have another cold coming on I think. Back in our room, I went immediately to bed, and was asleep by 8:30. |
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| 27 November | Arainn | |
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Elisa woke me at 8:00. I'm feeling better, finally. We went downstairs just in time for breakfast. This was our last day together, so as a sort of birthday gift/thank you, I paid for both of us for our room.
The day was just brilliant. We walked over to the hostel so I could check in, then I walked Elisa to the port. She had to get back to Galway for school, but I wanted a day here to myself before going to Dublin. Bye! Thanks! "Come back!"
Back to basic living at a hostel. I fixed some pasta for dinner, cooked in a dark kitchen - a circuit had burnt out. They had to wait until Tuesday for a replacement. I then spent a very enjoyable evening talking with others at the hostel. I spent a very long time talking with Sonnet, a lovely Yank girl from Missouri. She studied in Italy for 6 weeks, then spent the next 5 months touring Europe. She was home schooled, taught by her parents. At 19 years old, she was amazingly mature and knowledgeable of the world around her. She has already written many vegetarian recipes that have been published, and was currently working on writing an entire book for when she goes home. She was also at the end of her travels and going home in 1 week. Oh well. We sat up talking together until after 1:00. Good time. |
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| 28 November | Galway | |
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Dark showers (no power) and cold water held no appeal for me, I think I can wait until I get to Galway. I walked down to the port with a Scottish girl, and found the boat with no difficulty. This time, it was an easy, gentle crossing.
I was feeling lazy. The bus dropped me off in Galway right in front of the Tourist Office. Kinlay House hostel was right across the street. It looked good enough for me. The only problem was that my room would not be available until 2:30. I want that shower! Time to relax, update the journal, maybe have some lunch. This is the first time this journal has been up to date in over a week. I'm just losing the initiative.
Reiki. I read a book about it while in Kenya. It is the healing energy that a person can supposedly use to heal or help another person. I didn't think much of it at the time. I don't discount the idea, I've felt what I believed to be energy in many forms in my life. But then again, I tend to scoff at anyone who claims to be able to use it. Then one night in Killarney at a pub, I really felt the energy around me. I felt I could channel it, cup it in my hands. I passed it off as one too many drinks at the time, but since then, I've continued to feel it. It might be my imagination, but thinking back, I felt the same thing as far back as when I was only 5 years old. Playing with Elisa once, I "sent" some energy into her. She stopped what she was doing, turned around and stared at me. "What are you doing?" This surprised me, so I decided to test this out. With my eyes closed, I could "feel" where she was, and she could definitely tell me when and where I was sending energy. I tried drawing some away from her once as well, and she became so disoriented, she actually fell. It was very weird. I still don't believe in the stuff, and would pass off others saying this as imagination, but my disbelief has been shaken a bit, I have to say... Of course, on reaching the hostel here, I saw a sign advertising reiki lessons, but the classes were long over. Oh well. I spent a quiet night for once. I bought some Xmas tree lights in a hardware store in town. That night, I went to bed in very merry Xmas room. The Xmas lights were hung all over the room, my little radio was playing classic Xmas carols, it turned an antiseptic closet into a cozy festive room. |
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| 29 November | Galway | |
| This was a very productive day. I had my Claddagh ring resized, I renewed my contact lens solutions (very pricey), bought some groceries, saw Crimson Tide, em. I guess that's about it. Maybe it wasn't so productive after all... | ||
| 30 November | Dublin | |
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On to Dublin. I used my Eurail pass for one more free train ride. Avalon house was not as nice as I had hoped, but the town was full because U.S. Pres. Clinton was in town, plus it was a weekend, plus it was the Xmas season. Oh well.
I have mixed feelings about Dublin. It's certainly a grand city, full of Georgian buildings, a strong literary history, and many fine pubs. I've probably spent most of my time either in the pubs or picnicing in St Stephen's green, a nine-hectacre park right in the city centre. I find myself interested in the more recent history than the older heritage of this city. My grandfather, James Connolly, fought during the Easter Rising. As a kid, I always imagined he was the James Connolly, one of the leaders of the revolution. Of course, I forgot about a little detail that James Connolly was executed by a firing squad soon after the Rising and my grandfather lived to a ripe old age. Aside from the historical interest, though, Dublin is a depressing city. Lousy weather, high unemployment, high taxes, poor medical care, poor roads, poor people. It has a beauty, such as the Russions have, with their love of death and poetry. Hard living sometimes breeds a beautiful people, and it happened here. But to live here full time, I think I would just get depressed. That's part of the reason I spent so long here this time, to throw out my old romantic image of pubs and green fields and lilting lasses on country roads and examine what it would be like to live here. While I was sitting in the lounge and doing my new journal cover, I met a Yank from Phoenix who had traveled alot around China, then took the Trans-Siberia back. Interesting. While I was telling him about how I was meeting Mary here, I suddenly glimpsed a familiar face going up the stairs. Hi Mary! She had done some legwork already but had found nothing yet. Tomorrow... The three of us went out for an ultra touristy night at the Central Hotel. Molly Malone type singing, £2.05 pints. Oh well, it was a good night anyway. |
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| 1 December | Dublin | |
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Clinton was in town today. 1/3 of the Irish Gardai force was in Dublin today. It seemed like all of Ireland was in Dublin today. There were Secret Service agents everywhere, streets were blocked off, there were metal detectors, all for a slimeball politician. It was very annoying for me, who cares about Slick Willy? The Irish were all saying on the news, "we love him", "he brought peace". There was a disgusting show in Belfast yesterday with Protestant and Catholic children holding hands and presenting him to the crowd. Very sick. All that mattered for me was that my movements were seriously curtailed by the crowds. Mary and I tried a couple agents to find a ship, no luck, so we decided to try Thomas Cook. We couldn't reach the office because a checkpoint was on this side of the office, and there was an hour wait to get through. So I gave them a call. No, only the QEII will take us there, and it's not running. A bookstore had a little information, but not enough. Finally, Mary gave up. We had a delicious vegan lunch at Cornucopia. She was going to Port Rush today. Feeling sentimental, I blurted, it's too bad you aren't staying. To my surprise, she agreed. Damn. Oh well. I walked her and her bike to the bus station. Bye! I refused to give up on finding a ship to America. My next attempt was at the library, but chaos ruled there, so I left and tried again at the bookstore. I found more information, but there was still nothing more than a recommendation for the "ABC Passenger Shipping Guide/ABC Ferry and Cruise guide", but no one has it! In desperation, I decided to try Cook one more time, this time in person, and see what I could do. They did have the guide! It was old, 1992, but at least it had what I needed. There were 5 companies going my way, plus the QEII leaves on the 15th from England for NY, taking 5 days, for £1000. Ouch, but maybe... I will have to wait until Monday to call though. Damn. |
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| 2 December | Dublin | |
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The hostel was full tonight, so I had to find somewhere else to stay. Someone at the reception desk recommended a new place called Gogerty's, "Our competition". The place is right in the center of the Temple Bar area. At first, I was shocked at the price - £10 per night. Everywhere else in town was full, though, so I had no choice.
I made an appointment at the health center for my last Havrix injection. It's been over a year, I hope it's not too late. I met some others who were taking an organized tour of Dublin. I went along, but at the last minute, the tour guide raised his pamphlet and called the group together. I saw this and my stomach turned. Tour groups - yuck! I couldn't go through with it. I did the same tour on my own. Christchurch cathedral. Nice, but not too special. I did some wanders around town afterwards, just adjusting to the thought I would be home in just a few weeks... After lunch I checked into my new room. Wow. I thought it was just an expensive hostel before, but now... The room was spacious and very clean. My room had a balcony overlooking Temple Bar St., with it's own big clean ensuite bathroom. The doors had electronic locks, there was free laundry, leather couches in the TV room. The sign at the front desk called this place a luxury hostel. I'd have to agree. That evening, Matt, John, Chris, and I decided to do a traditional pub crawl. Our first stop was right next door at Gogerty's pub for some traditional music and expensive pints. After we had warmed up there, the Temple Bar served up a decent pint. Buskers had a rather yuppie crowd, but some good fun. We stayed at Fitzsimmon's for a couple. The other guys were lightweights, and took off after a couple, but I was out for the night. The Kitchen was the "in" spot tonight, but it was still too early. I met a couple English girls who joined me for another pint or two. I was running flat, so I told them to hold on and ran back to my room to get some more cash. Matt asked - "good night?" I'm not done yet! The pub was closed when I got back, but I found the girls and we took off to the Kitchen. But after queuing, we were told that tonight there was a special function (something about Clinton), and entry was by invite only. Damn. We were all in the mood to dance, so we then wandered over to Bad Bob's. £8 to enter! I'm well, damn wasted at this time, and wanted to dance, so in we went. This is where the night starts turning really hazy. The girls and I hung out downstairs, then went upstairs for dancing. The next few hours remain a blur. Somehow, I lost the girls, met 3 others - a black guy and 2 girls. I remember "my" girl dancing with someone else, more drinking, friendly people and then the club closing.
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| 3 December | Dublin | |
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I woke up late, dazed and confused. And just slightly hung over.
After talking a bit, the bunch of us went out to the Big Tree pub across the street for a couple pints during shut-in. All three were great people, my age, we had some interesting talk. Dave's a teacher - his parents were from Rwanda. Sharon? I don't recall. Moira was wiped out, we went back to Dave's to sleep some more. After snoozing for a couple hours, I was starving, so I pushed to leave. Bye guys! It was late at this point, past 11:00. We grabbed a bus back to the center and found some food. Then, she had to get home (she lived with her parents), so I walked her to her bus stop. "See you tomorrow?" Absolutely! Tomorrow, 8:00, Trinity College. Yes! I then strolled back to my hostel. "Where have you been?" The girl at the front desk seemed truly concerned. She had considered calling the guards. I never came in all day or night, and hadn't slept here... Yeah, sorry. Then she started teasing me. "You never answered the question!" *blush* "Oh." |
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| 4 December | Dublin | |
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Did yesterday happen? Of course. It has almost become routine nowadays. It looks like this journal is ending with a bang.
Time to find transport home. I called England to get information about freighters going my way. The guy who answered replied, "We're too busy now, we'll call you back." OK. An hour later, there was still no call. "Yeah, still busy, we'll call." OK. An hour more, still nothing, so I went out for lunch and did some Xmas shopping. The company never called back. At the GPO, a few letters await me. A friend who works for a cruise agent can get me on the QEII for US$1432. It's still ridiculously expensive, but maybe... I would need a tuxedo for 2 nights and a dark suit for the other nights, which I could rent for US$65/day. Hm. It is absolutely crazy, nuts, psycho! But still, the idea of finishing this rough shoestring barebones trip on the most luxurious passenger ship in the world has great appeal. It's crazy! Still. It's a boat, it'll take me there. How can I refuse if all else fails? US$1432 vs. US$200? Hm. I finally called the shipping company back. They wanted £1400! What?!! Are you serious? Not a chance bud. Slam! Now what? I had a date with Moira at 8:00, and I was running late. I took a quick shower and started running to Trinity. On my way, I looked at my watch: Horror, I'm late! Damn. She was waiting at the gate when I got there. Um, hi. "You're late, you! I was just about to leave!" Um. "I'm bloody freezing." Um. Sorry? "Let's go." I didn't know this town well enough to come up with something novel to do tonight, so we ended up seeing the film "Murder in the First". How romantic. :-) Holding hands, her head on my shoulder, I felt good as we watched a man beaten bloody on the screen. It was late when the film ended, and she had to go, so once again, I walked her to her bus stop. See you tomorrow? "Bet on it! Better be on time next time!" OK... |
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| 5 December | Dublin | |
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Not much all day. Some shopping - found nothing. Checked bookstores for freighter information - found nothing. Called shipping companies - found nothing.
At 3:30, I had a doctors appointment to get my last havrix injection (immunization for Hep A). Supposedly, after this shot, I'm set for the next ten years. I had been thinking that I was safe now that it's been over a month since I left Africa. The doctor made me feel oh so much better by telling me that years could pass, and something could still happen, I could still get malaria. Great. Just a small prick now. Ow! Whaaa! £45 poorer, I walked out onto the street and ran into John, a mate from the hostel. He will be travelling to similar points as I. We walked down the street for a couple pints and talk. A month ago, he had been hitching from Donegal to Cork. He made it in 7.5 hours! At one point, he was stuck on the road outside of Dublin after dark, just about to give up and find some shelter. Suddenly, a car pulled over. A beautiful girl driving a brand new Citroen asked where he was going. Lucky him, she was also going to Cork (for the Jazz Fest). When they got there, she asked him to stay with her family and got him into all sorts of events at the festival. They met again later near the Cliffs of Moher - her family owned a cottage there. Now, he's staying with her in the flat she just bought here in Dublin. Lucky guy! [Two years later, I've received postcards from John from places such as Namibia and Ethiopia, but he's never left an address, so I never know where he'll be next.] I was running late again as usual, but I had time for a shower and a more leisurely walk to meet Moira. I got to Trinity at 6:00 exactly. "Hi!" Dinner at Chicago pizza. Good talk. Then, we went to a nearby pub "where I grew up". We each only drank 1 pint in an hour. She was talking my ear off, but that was fine, I was tired, and enamored. Next, we went to the Brazen Head - the oldest pub in Dublin. Very nice. Again, I had only one pint and much talk. Just holding hands. When the pub closed, we had to run, the last bus that would get her home was at 11:30. Huge hailstones stung us on the long way back. After seeing her onto her bus, I trudged home to my place. All of a sudden, as I was climbing the stairs, I just collapsed. I was feeling very poor. I thought I was just tired before, but it really hit me now. My temperature according to the thermometer was 102.2° F. Ouch! What's up? I fell into bed. I ended up tossing and turning, and groaning all night in sheer agony. Perhaps it was a side effect from the havrix injection... Chris came in at 3:00, grabbed some stuff, and quickly went out again. He had met someone, and never came back in all night.
And that's it for book 3. Book 1 was New Zealand, Oz, Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, and into Thailand. Shocks and eye opening adventures. Book 2 was beaches, women, Himalayas, and into India. This one witnessed the return to "civilization", from India, to Pakistan, Iran, Turkey, Greece, down to Kenya, Tanzania, and back up through Italy, Germany, and France, and finally back to Ireland, end of the line. What a long strange trip it's been...
And finally, dear friend, we have reached the final volume, fourth in the series, of the Great Out There. The previous volume started in hot and steamy Delhi. Tired, burnt out, and hungry, our hero commenced the most difficult and challenging chapter in the ongoing saga. From initially inspiring moments in Amritsar and Lahore, the scene soon turned to nightmare. 32 hour train rides through 53+° desert, starvation, unfriendly townspeople, train derailments, greed, and violence all make for a truly bad week. And he wants one more year of this? Is the man crazy, insane, totally whakko? Entering Iran apprehensively, he soon discovered a country of friendly, generous, curious people. Prostitutes, drugs, alcohol all severely wrench his view of a land of religious fanatics, murderers and millionaires. But he is tired from the long journey and decides to turn to home. Still halfway around the world, more adventures were yet to happen, as he explored eastern and northern Turkey, sampled the beach, then met his mother in a strange scene in Istanbul. On her departure, a week on the coast in Butterfly Valley recalls times of Raileh. Then, desperately in need of a party, our hero turned to the one place in that part of the world sure to have a full on nightlife: the Greek Isles. Weeks of dancing, drinking, and ogling beautiful women then ensue, ending with a ferry to Athens and a ticket down to darkest Africa, to meet a father long unseen. In Nairobi, our tired adventurer gets his first taste of Africa, as he shuttles out of the country down to Arusha in Tanzania. One day later found him starting the ascent on Kilimanjaro, tallest mountain in Africa. Succeeding in their adventure and after a series of safaris serve to both thrill and exhaust, the great Silver Eagle flies home and Running Bear goes to Lamu to rest yet again. Sun, surf, good food, and cool ninjas make an impact, before sadly returning to familiar Europe. Great disappointment awaits in Firenze, as a long anticipated romance is cut away, but an old friend gives solace, enabling our tired warrior to return to the land of his fathers, where cold rainy days, and warm, cozy nights at the pub salve the weary spirit. Women continued to confuse, as one after another attached themselves to the man, yet failed to enlighten. The book ended in Dublin, where presidential visits and word from old friends promise a happy ending while he rages in the clubs and meets a lovely Irish lass. Ending with promise, yet doubt, worlds away from Delhi, the end in sight, the new book begins. In this, the final volume in his great adventure, all loose ends are tied up, impressions collected, dreams renewed, and the future finally confronted. Will he sail to the New World? What will happen after returning? As the journey ends and the real world emerges, watch as the traveller faces the workaholic. Who will win? The struggle of man in a strange environment was told. Survival against difficult conditions was achieved. Now the mental encounter is brought to a head. No more knife wielding Pakistanis, no more raging tigers, the demons that our hero must now face come from within. Watch the struggle now, dear reader, and walk in his boots. The wanderer's feet turn at last to home. |
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| 6 December | Dublin | |
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I woke around noon feeling more than halfway alive again. My temperature was gone, my arm felt better, but a sore throat and swollen glands still hung about. Looks like a simple flu. Oh well. I was supposed to meet John at Bewley's at 10:00, but I just couldn't go. He'll understand. I'll have to write and explain. I spent the day hanging out in the hostel. I called the folks. Mom was psyched about the QEII. Dad disapproved of the money. As of 31 Oct, I have spent only US$9500 on this trip. Plus 600 for the Kilimanjaro visa bill. Since then, I think I've spent just under 1500. I still have much of what I set aside for this trip. But who cares. What's money? I start work in a month, paychecks will start up again soon... I could afford it...
As the sun set, my body failed me yet again. By the time I got to bed, my temperature was already at 103°. Groan. |
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| 7 December | Dublin | |
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Up late again. Again feeling almost fine. Nothing all day.
At 6:00, I met Moira! "Hi!" We went to a fine establishment, Eddie Rockets, for dinner. Tasty burgers. Yum! Afterwards, to the theatre! She had never been to the Abbey Theatre before, so I thought it would fun to go see a play. The Last Playboy of the Western World was showing tonight. There was a full house. The play was excellent. At intermission, I became briefly confused. Everyone stood up and put their coats on. I thought it was over, barbarian that I am, and asked Moira what she wanted to do next. "Huh? It's not done yet!" Oh, they were only going out for a smoke. After it was (really) over, we went down to the pub of course. Tomorrow, she wants to go dancing at George's - a gay club. Good music? Yup. Good club? Yep. OK. |
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| 8 December | Dublin | |
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I woke up feeling poor. Whatever I have, it's not extreme, but it's persistent... Not much all day.
At 8:30, hi! We met Sharon at a pub near the George for a couple pints. Dave was in Galway this weekend. A couple big macho Scottish guys tried chatting up the girls while I was in the loo, asking where there was a good club tonight. "Why not try the George?" Moira innocently suggested, "It's where we're going..." Ha! Nasty woman. Eventually, we rolled down to the street. The bouncers at the door asked people "Have you been here before? Do you know what sort of place this is?" Em, yes. Inside, it was calm enough. There was good music. Moira's friends were there. Tracy and Deb, a lesbian couple visiting from England, were having a blast. Great girls. Lisa, big, fat and friendly, and a few others. I didn't drink too much, but Lisa had some sort of smelling drugs which I made the mistake of trying. Whoo! We ended up dancing all night, they were a fun bunch. Lisa kept hugging me and getting close. If I didn't know she was gay, I'd have thought she was trying something else. Moira later told me they approved of her choice, which of course I didn't mind hearing from any source... Sharon ended up going home with Tracy and Deb, Lisa met a girl she liked, everyone seemed to have had a good time. Moira and I went back to our place. G'night! |
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| 9 December | Dublin | |
| A weekend full of fun. There were some excellent times, visits to the pubs, long talks, and the weekend passed all to quickly. | ||
| 11 December | Dublin | |
| Again, not much all day. More shopping, still finding nothing. At 6:00, there she was. Hi! Usual fun time, out for food at Eddie Rockets again of course. Then a pint at the pub afterwards, being total "klingons" - her word - as in cling-ons, kissing each other, making a scene, and ignoring the surrounding crowds. Good night. | ||
| 12 December | Dublin | |
| Same as yesterday. | ||
| 13 December | Dublin | |
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I still couldn't find any decent Xmas gifts, so I sent Mom an email asking for help. At 6:00, Moira came over to "my place". I fixed dinner tonight, my world famous chicken cacciatore. She brought some wine. She seemed to like my cooking, at least she asked for seconds. The girl eats more than I do. It's amazing she can keep such a lovely figure...
After dinner, we went to Gogerty's next door to watch the Ireland-Holland soccer match - and watch the defeat. Oh well. When we sitting over a pint afterwards, a guy came up to me, "Are you Seán?" Yes... "Your mom's on the phone." Huh? Oh yeah. Hi Mom! She was laughing when I came to the phone. When she asked the bartender to get me, he responded, "You mean, the brawny lad?" She had a few ideas for me, but not much. She told me to invite Moira over for Xmas. Yeah right. Back to the table, where Moira and I continued to make a scene. She ended up crashing with me in the dorm room tonight, not wanting to go home. |
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| 14 December | Dublin | |
| Up early to see Moira off. When I finally woke later on, it was noon. The girl at the front desk asked me "Did your girlfriend sleep here last night?" Yes, I'll pay for her as well. Don't bother, it's Christmas time. Great. I'm spending a fortune already as it is. Not that I mind, too much. That night, we met again as usual and did our usual thing. More pubs, more fun. Did some shopping on Henry street. | ||
| 15 December | Dublin | |
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I managed to send all my Xmas cards today, close to 100 total, to dozens of countries and many people. Some won't arrive until late, but at least they'll get there.
Moira and I met up with Sharon and Dave a bit late. To the Temple Bar for an early night. No one felt like dancing, Moira and I had other plans. Still, some good craic, we stayed out 'til the pub closed and they threw us out. |
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| 16 December | Dublin | |
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Out for food at noon, more shopping, another pub. We met Dave and Sharon for a drink. Dinner at the Long Stone Pub. They made a decent chicken kiev. Back to the room, then met the others in the evening, late again of course. Out to a late bar, but the queue was down the street. Not. We tried the bar at Chicago Pizza, busy place, but full of under 20 yr olds. Again, early night.
I had called cousin Nuala finally and arranged to meet her on Monday, so tomorrow will be Moira and my last day together... Damn. |
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| 17 December | Dublin | |
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At noon, we had to check out. We went out, but it was a cold, wet, and miserable day. We decided to hit a film, but nothing good was showing in town. Out to Salton, the Omniplex had Braveheart. Great film, but Moira kept burying her head in my chest at the violence, and started crying at the emotional bits. Today's it for us. After the film, we went out to Pacinos for an excellent dinner. Neither of us paid much attention to the food, we were both rather glum. There was not much sparkling wit going around the table. Back to the hostel afterwards to get her things and say goodbye.
Damn. I won't describe the parting. She had to go for the last bus, so pulled it together, blew her nose, cracked my ribs, and we walked slowly to her bus stop. Goodbye. I watched her bus pull away until it turned the corner and disappeared from view. Then I went back to my room under a cold, miserable drizzle, the weather perfectly suiting my mood. Time to go home. |
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| 18 December | Dublin | |
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This was my last day in Dublin. I stumbled through the city like a junkie, trying to take it all in. I was greedy for every last detail. It was a city of vampyres - all the people with pale white faces, dark clothes, blazing blue, green eyes, dark hair. The town had a surreal feel to it. Despite the crowds, the streets were quiet. Tinsel and Xmas lights flashed in the shop windows. Carols drifted from passing cars. The fog from my breath just hung about me, with no wind to move it. Everything seemed to move in slow motion.
At 7:00, I took bus 10 out to Nuala's house in Donnybrook. I had no problem finding the place after my visit here a few years ago. RTE station, yup. Nutley Lane, yup, Nutley Rd, yep, hey, that house looks familiar! Hi! Easy talking with Nuala, but cousin Carol seemed tired. Nuala wants the book of my trip when I finish writing it. [I hope she's satisfied with a web site!] I should have spent more time visiting relatives this time, but I'm afraid several distractions kept me from doing the right thing. Next time... Carol drove me home after. Now that wasn't bad... Last night in Dublin... |
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| 19 December | Limerick | |
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Up early, I did some laundry, grabbed a necklace for Jeni, and walked out to Heuston train station. When it was time to board, I flashed my eurail pass, expecting to walk right on. The guy checked it carefully. "Hey, doesn't this say you got it 12 Oct?" Oops! I forgot about that! I was now committed, even though the train costs more money than the bus. Damn. £10 gets me to Limerick. I checked into the An Oige hostel. It was a very grim, empty place, without one single other guest. This world wander will end on a lonely note. Oh well. I spent a quiet night thinking back on all the places I've been and all the things I've done. Tomorrow, I will be home. How weird. This is the time now for me to get all introspective and write some deep stuff, but I'm just not in the mood right now. I'll do it proper later on...
Power |
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| 20 December | Fairfield | |
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Out to the airport, £2. I bought a couple gifts with the last of my money in the duty free shop. I phoned Moira briefly until the phone card ran out. It sounds like she's doing OK. Her family is treating her gently. She asked me to buy a new phone card and call again, but I was out of money and I think we should leave it where it is. Bye girl. "Write me!" she asks. Bet on it. I'm now sitting at gate 7, waiting to board the Aer Lingus flight 111 to return home. And that's it. Time to get philosophical now... Em...
Let's see, 19 countries, 423 days, all the way around the world. Different lifetimes. Kiwi Experiencing NZ, diving off Oz, bemos in Indonesia, cool times in Singapore. The highlands of Malaysia, the beaches of Thailand (Jula!). Trekking in Nepal, the heat of India. The desert of Pakistan and the cool blue mosques of Iran. Tourist mobs in Turkey, parties in Greece. Kilimanjaro and Lamu recall Africa, disappointment in Italy, old times in Germany. An echo of a 14 yr old in France, and finally "home" to Ireland. I can recall each moment vividly now if I think about it, but the impression I'm left with is that of a metronome out of whack. Tick - NZ! Tok - Oz! Tik - Indonesia. Each distinct, some moving fast, some more slowly, some so brief, I didn't even hear the beat. I can feel I've changed over the course of this trip, but it takes an effort to notice those changes. Is it all just travelling, acclimating to the life of a vagrant, or is it something deeper. Both Mom and Dad said they felt I had more confidence, and that is probably true. Certainly, I feel more comfortable now in foreign cultures, the idea of being alone and clueless in an alien country no longer raises as much alarm as it previously did. The question is what will happen after my return. The idea of returning to a meaningless 9-5 existence distinctly repels me, and yet I cannot come up with a viable option. My raising won't permit me to just bum around the world, waiting tables and tending bars, but my career just doesn't allow me to take off for extended times either. People back home are dumbfounded by what I have done. Yet for people who have also done similar trips, what I have done is normal, boring even, maybe even just another tourist, seeing how rarely I ventured off the beaten track. In the past year+, I've learned to scuba dive, climbed volcanoes, been with people of all different cultures, crossed deserts, seen beggars, touts, and parasites of all stripes, experienced ecstasy and depression enough to drive one mad, and yet now, I'm going home to a family that hasn't changed much at all in the past year, and who cannot picture even briefly the times I've experienced. I could describe the night-time sky up at Thorung Phedi for hours, the way the sky was on fire with the vast expanse of the universe and no electricity for miles around. Yet they would imagine the nighttime Connecticut sky. I could try to make them understand what 124° F heat was like, the brutal, deadly oven a city becomes as soon as the white sun rises over the horizon. But they would only think of a hot humid summer day or maybe the heat wave last summer. They simply can not imagine something they have never even remotely experienced. That's not said condescendingly, I don't think I'm better than them because of it or any such nonsense, but then again, they will not be able to appreciate it either. The glazed look in their eyes if I go on too long is not because they wouldn't like to do it or are not interested, it is simply because they have not done it, and don't really know what it feels like. Oh well, it's not something I can change, just something I will need to remember. My travels are hardly finished. The Middle East, Africa, South America, Asia, I've hardly begun to touch the world, let alone grasp it and understand it. What I have done is excellent, I have done practically everything I have ever dreamt of doing. I've trekked the Himalaya, climbed Kilimanjaro, dived the Great Barrier Reef, climbed the volcanoes of Indonesia, seen the Serengeti, travelled literally around the world on my own. But when it's all over, what I have done is for me, not everyone else. If they are interested, I will tell them my stories, but if not, it should be enough for me just to remember. Last call now for my plane. It's time to go.
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©Copyright Seán Connolly |
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