Ode to Public Transportation

Dear 17A,

Why didn’t you come today?

I sat at the bus stop waiting for you,

But your shiny yellow top never came into view.

Dear 17A,

No more vacations, okay?

It was raining a ton,

And standing for 39 minutes is not fun.

Dear 7b,

Did you not see!?

I was waving you down,

But you drove past me into town.

Dear 7b,

I am not happy you didn’t stop for me.

Next time I see you driving by

I might point my middle finger towards the sky.

Dear 140,

You usually come perpetually,

But every time I say I will meet someone in town,

Later the night, you can never be found.

Dear 140,

You really must agree,

That being on time only half of the day

Is really not the best way.

Dear Dublin Bus,

You have made my life a fuss.

The whole time I have been here

There has been this constant fear,

That I will be late,

Or that a bus only comes on a certain date.

And the times are all wrong,

With no maps where they belong.

And Dear Dublin Bus,

You have given me so many reasons to cuss.

Everything else about my trip has been great,

Yes…YOU are the worst thing in Ireland to date.

Public transportation is such a farce,

And you really have been a big pain in me arse.

Sitting, waiting, and thinking of rhymes in disgust.

*There is a "Comments" section on the Dublin bus website. I'm considering sending them my little message...I think they will greatly enjoy it.*

Ode to Public Transportation

The Thing About People

I must admit that the hardest part about being in Ireland thus far has been my addiction to people.

I love them.

I love the different cultures with their unique customs. I love hearing Irish slang, Italian, French, and German being spoken within the same conversations. I love being surrounded by new faces at a pub, or having discussions about Virginia. I love being “the American girl” but being immersed into a city full of students that are “the girl” or “the boy” of their country. None of us knew anyone when arriving in Dublin; most came alone. But because of this, we are together.

Of course, there is a small problem.

I am very bad at goodbyes. I hate them…I hate saying “ciao ciao ciao” one last time. I hate not knowing if I will ever see someone again. I hate meeting someone and practically praying they aren’t leaving the next day because that just isn’t fair. And most of all, I hate losing that little story I had with different people – those instant connections where you feel like you’ve known someone for much longer than in actuality.

It’s a rare feeling – like coming home from summer camp or your first year in college. Everything is original and interesting and talking to people is like reading a book you can’t put down: their stories and backgrounds are simply enthralling.

Everywhere I walk in Dublin, memories pull me in different directions. Doyles was my first Irish pub, where I met the Italians. The Londis convenience store is where Letitzia and I were asked out by strange Irish men (who we politely declined). The Spire is where I have met everyone at some point or another. The bus station is right by the hostel Kathryn stayed in. And the post office was where I said my final goodbyes to many friends.

Lucky, there is a good thing about people.

There are so many stories I have yet to hear, and so many connections I have yet to make both in Ireland and the States. I can always meet and learn from people, whether I am “on an adventure” or not. So in these last two weeks, I’ll live it up and not worry about goodbyes because maybe, just maybe…I will be lucky enough to say hello again.

Lovely people I've met along the way...

The Thing About People