Today is the one year anniversary of my trip to Ireland (and consequently, my first time on a plane and out of the country - crazy!). Below isthe travel essay from my trip titled "Ireland as Home." You can find the original and unedited version here.
Alex Trebek was the deciding factor in my decision to study abroad. It was back in February, and Jeopardy! was on in the background as I read over my study abroad application, contemplating traveling to Ireland in the summer. Thats when Alex prompted the contestants for the name of the popular bar area in Dublin. When someone buzzed in and answered What is Temple? I took it as the final push I needed to get going. As both the name of my university and the area in question, I took it as a sign. Shortly afterwards, I was officially accepted into the program.
Studying abroad began not as a lifelong, yearlong or even month-long dream. It was something I heard about in my introductory journalism class last spring semester when I was a sophomore. There was a presentation on study abroad programs for the School of Communications and Theater majors. The idea of it did intrigue me, but I was put off by the high costs.
After several friends had committed to studying abroad, I started thinking about it more critically. Italy, England, Mexicomy friends were experiencing these places, some for the second time around. My sisters friend had studied in Scotland and was now preparing for another round of extended travel in Australia. The costs of going to these places seemed to come in second behind the real world experience everyone was gaining. My mind started swelling and I made myself the promise that if I didnt go abroad now, I had to make it out of the country after college graduation in 2009.
Then reality sunk in: I would soon be faced with student loans, finding a job and settling into the dreaded real world. What if I never got the chance outside of college to leave the country? I didnt aspire to be like my grandmom who recently made her first voyage out of the United States in her 70s. I wanted to see and explore foreign soil, and move around at a moments whim. I was young, curious and able, so what was I waiting for?
Ireland was the first major trip I had ever taken. It encompassed my first time out of the country and my first time on an airplane. It involved the new tasks of packing a suitcase, applying for a passport and living away from home for an extended time. My travel portfolio had burgeoned in recent months to a spontaneous two-day stay in Virginia Beach, a weekend in New Hampshire and a magazine conference held in New York City. Beyond that, I had been to a couple of cities in Pennsylvania, gone somewhat up and down the east coast, and vacationed many times at the Jersey shore (if an annual summer getaway still constitutes traveling).
My flight out of JFK Airport took place on June 11. The day was somewhat hazy, as reality still hadnt set in yet. After taking the overnight plane ride, I awoke in a new landa greener, colder and cloudier one. I felt good walking thorough the airport, looking out the windows at my home for the next four weeks. A poster of the Irish boy band, Boyzone, welcomed us to the country as some of the other students and I went to claim our bags.
We met people from the IES program who directed us where to take out money and get taxis. After we received our Euros, we got a taxi van and went off into the city. Right away I made connections to home through the IES worker and taxi driver: she looked like my cousins best friend and he looked like my manager at work. Its interesting how our brains make these comparisons to help us cope while were away from home. I wasnt homesick, but certain familiarities made the transition of living abroad easier. It happened again when we arrived at the apartments. The park across the street had the same name as the high school I attended; a liquor bottle in the kitchen had my best friends last name on it;and two people on the trip knew family friends of mine. Philadelphia was closer than I thought.
While I made constant links between Dublin and home, I also took mental notes of the new and unusual. Besides being noticed for being a young adult living in one the richest areas of the city, I was always painfully recognized as being an American. The white sneakers, Jansport backpack and shorts were all big indicators to everyone else that I didnt belong. The biggest indicator of all seemed to be flip-flips. No matter where our school group traveled, the sentence, We can tell youre American was almost always followed up with because youre wearing flip-flops. This was particularly interesting because this type of footwear is available in department stores here. But, maybe they just stock them for when we Americans visit.
Counting out money became the first challenge. One and two Euros came in the form of coins, and one, two and five cents appeared identical at first glance. All three coins were copper-colored and differentiated by just slight differences in size. How did anyone pay in exact change here? Another quality of Dublin was that it was not a planned city and it showed. There are one-way streets, few speed limit signs and roads uninhabitable for two-way traffic (but theyre used for such, anyway). People drive on the left side of the road (and occasional sidewalk), and come at you from every imaginable direction. One side goes, then the opposing side, then pedestrians, followed by more walkers and drivers at another angle. There are similar pedestrian buttons to get the light to change as in the U.S., but even Dubliners seem confounded by the uncoordinated system and just book it as they jaywalk across the street. During that first night, my group stood there frozen, while the green man with the Frogger-sound emanating from him let us non-drivers know that we had five seconds to cross.
Another difference is language. Even though a lot of Irish people speak English, the slang and common talk among the locals is unique in a way all its own. Things are grand, lovely and brilliant. There are no bathrooms, but there are toilets. And these arent toilets for women and men, but rather ladies and gents. Asking for water in a restaurant is no bother, and unlike American establishments that aim to please, Irish menus list that they endeavor to serve you. There are no signs telling you to be careful, but there are signs telling you to mind the step and mind your head with the high floors and low ceilings. After inquiring some Dublin boys about everything Ireland, blood pudding and the lingo, they gave me a lesson on some key words and phrases. Blokes are guys, and after a late night of getting pissed at the pub, theyre wrecked. Whats the story, horse? is how you ask your buddy whats up, and inquiring about last nights craic takes on an entirely different meaning than in the States.
After a few days of living in and observing Ireland, I stopped comparing every Euro price to its amount in dollars. After a week, I stopped getting teary-eyed when thinking about the time difference between Ireland and back home. I walked constantly around the city and took lots of pictures. I visited the attractions, ate the food and recorded my experiences. I wore flats instead of flip-flops, always brought my umbrella and tried not to over bundle up every time I stepped outside.
Into my second week here, an Italian woman asked me for directions to St. Stephens Green. Not being a native Dubliner or local, I didnt remember any street names and did the best I could. I told her to make a left at the Natural History Museum (which is currently closed until further notice), go straight and make a right at the first traffic light (its directly across the street from the Bagel Factory) and continue going straight until she ran into the park (its right by Grafton Street and the statue of Molly Malone, you cant miss it).
In addition to paying with 1 and 2 Euro coins, the one, two and five cent coins finally started registering. While getting candy at a local Spar, the cashier coincidentally replied, Youve got it, without being prompted by me, that I gave the correct amount of change. Another time, I was about to cross the chaotic streets of Dublin. While this still proves the occasional challenge, it wasbecoming easier. I crossed in between red lights with a mob of people and passed a visibly confused and motionless couple who looked at each other and laughed. Well just say that were following the street signs because were from America, the wife said to her husband.
As time went on, I became more comfortable traveling without my school group. By the end of my third week, I planned a day trip by myself to Northern Ireland. I woke up at 4:15 a.m., took a taxi to the hostel where the bus was picking the tour group up, collected my ticket and waited for the 5:45 a.m. ride.
The weather was absolutely beautiful that day. The sun was out and shining, and I was coasting on aburst of energy. We got off at the train station and waited for our bright green tour bus to pick us up. While waiting in the lobby, I met a couple from Santa Monica, California who ironically had a layover in Philadelphia before coming to Ireland their first time on the East Coast. They saw the Liberty Bell during their short stay there and asked about the best places for cheesesteaks.
Again, the weather was so nice that day. A little chilly, but pretty cloudless for an Irish sky. I loved driving around Belfast. I cant really explain it, other than it was a happy, entranced sort of feeling. We passed the docks where the Titanic made its last stop and drove through some lovely countryside. Our first stop of the day was the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge. Some classmates went there the weekend before, but it had hailed the whole time. I had a feeling that Id fare better.
The bus driver said wed have almost an hour and a half there. I was a little annoyed at first. You cross the bridge which takes twenty seconds, and then what? For the first five to ten minutes, it was pretty coldeven thoughthe weather waspartly cloudy and in the 60s. However, as soon as I passed the admission gate and made my way down the dirt path, that familiar bright sun pushed its way through and lit up the sky. It quickly warmed up, and the sightsah, the sights. The key to budget travel is to approach in advance. When it occurs to family trips, globetrotting, well-deserved trips and/or going to see new destinations we have never been before, the fact of cost and budgeting is often in the back of our heads. Organizing and expending our travel budget wisely is a consideration for most families. Lowering spending and expenses, while still savoring your vacation to its fullest, is the key to confirmed achievement and fiscal responsibility. Your pocketbook and family will thank you! The thinking behind protecting money while traveling is simple: Even if your personal budget is extremely limited, you can still take a break and enjoy life! Simply put, life is just too short to never step out of the door or departing the homestead! Also thinking about that while traveling, no matter whether on a price range or not, even the smallest of things can all add op to a big vacation or travel charge!. This place was reminiscent of a tropical island. The color of the ocean was a rich blue that cascaded from dark blue at the horizon to crystal clear at the shoreline. There were caves, small white sand beaches and lively green vegetation. I crossed the bridge, which was no big feat, and walked around Carrick Island. The grass was cushiony and comfortable to walk on. The seagulls flew around, and made a noticeably screechier noise than what Im used to. Everything was so spectacular, and the nice weather made the trip all the more pleasant.
I sat on a black rock, and looked at a small curvy trail that began at my feet and extended to the end of the cliff. I looked out into the horizon and reflected on my time there. A reoccuring topic we discussed in class was "having a moment":a feeling you experienced when traveling alone that took over you.I contemplated future travel plans, my last week in Ireland and everything that hadhappened. I felt such a happiness, and felt very at peace. I became filled with emotion and started choking up. I started psycho-analyzing myself to find out what was wrong, but knew that nothing was. Everything was great in that moment and I wanted to hold onto it for as long as I could.
As I hiked back to the parking lot, I reflected on it being Independence Day back in the States and got nostalgic. I felt very childlike as I walked over the rocks and looked out into the pasture and admired how pretty the yellow flowers were. I turned a corner, and a little boy passed with a shirt that said, Live with optimism! on the front. I started walking fast to make it back to the tour group on time. In the process, I walked behind a middle-aged couple who made me think of my parents. I thought about how proud of them Id be if they could drop everything and do something like this.
I closed in on the couple as I made my way around another corner of the dirt path. I noticed their big travelers backpacks and huge water bottles. Then I happened to glance down at the mans feet: flip-flops. American.
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