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

Fake Postmen and Phantoms

“Do you think we’re going to make it?”

“I don’t know…” my sister replied, looking around desperately for a sign that might lead us to Phantom of the Opera.

We had a harebrained scheme: Catch a 15:00 bus to London from Oxford, find Phantom’s playhouse, and after taking a few touristy pictures, grab the late bus back home.

On the way to London.

“The play will be between 7 and 8,” I say.

Kathryn and her friend Lauren glance nervously at watches and cell phone clocks.

“Well…it’s 6:30 now.”

Our plans had already met a slight hitch when our bus had broken down on the highway. And searching for a theater was more difficult than expected. Unlike New York’s Broadway, London stages are scattered throughout the city. So we began asking the question I have become so accustomed to asking: “Excuse me, hi yes sorry. Do you know where (insert every destination ever here)."

Really? Oh yes...

One bus driver pointed us down a street. The next bus driver pointed us back towards the way we came. The man working at a theater could only tell us to ask a bus driver. Finally I saw a postman. Yes a postman! That was who helped me when I was lost on my first day of work! Postmen are awesome – I love you postmen.

So I quickly walked over to him before he could take his lovely postman self down another street.

“Sir, excuse me! Yes…sorry to bother you but…”

Oh wait. You’re not a postman. Dang you and your fake postman outfit…you postman poser! I blindly trusted you because of your uniform and hat and letters in your hand. And the more I talk to you the more I realize you don’t speak English…but you say I should ask a taxi driver? Ok! Yes this one right here? Well, thank you fake postman! Yes have a nice night.

Literally running around London.

So Kathryn, Lauren and I asked a taxi driver if he knew where Her Majesty’s Theater was located.

“You wanna get in?”

“Ha. No sir. Could you just simply tell me…”

“You want in?” he asked again, smashing a turkey sandwich into his face.

“No. I do not. We do not “want in,” I said beginning to get frustrated.

“You gonna pay?”

Ok. I have a feeling we’re not in Ireland anymore.

“Can you tell me or no,” I said. The clock was ticking and I didn’t have time for little taxi man games. Luckily my favorite fake postman came up behind us.

“Coo you jost tell ‘deem where dis is, yes?” he asked.

“Ok," the driver consented. "You’re gonna go down this street here, you see? Go take a left, and then you’re gonna start looking for Haymarket, see? It’s on the left there. On Haymarket.”

I gave him a quick “thanks” but saved my genuine gratitude for the fake postman. “No problem,” he said and went back up the street with his random letters that obviously were not today’s mail.

So the adventure continued. We ran through the streets on London, skipped over obstacles, darted through traffic, and frantically searched for Haymarket. Lauren had to remove her shoes and prance around the city barefoot to keep up. But we were going to see that show, even if our feet were bleeding by the time we arrived. I had already learned in Ireland that blisters will fade...right?

Nice...who needs shoes.

Finally we found the theater. Between Kathryn’s knowledge of London, the fake postman, and the annoying taxi driver, we arrived at 7:15 for the 7:30 show.

Love love love.

“25 pounds for obstructed view,” the man in the booth told us. Last minute tickets are always cheaper, but unless we sat near a column, they would still cost over 70 pounds – which is over $130 American dollars.

So behind a column we sat. And it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. At first we thought it would be horrible, but once the play started I think it’s safe to say we were all captivated by the magic of the London theater and swept away by the actors voices that led us to a world a mystery and intrigue in a 1800s opera house.

And for 25 pounds? Heck ya!

Harebrained scheme: Check

London play: Check

Touristy pictures by Big Bed and red payphones: Check

Classic holiday with Kathryn: Check, Check, Check!

You better believe I was talking in a British accent...

Being a tourist.

Me and P on "holiday."

Fake Postmen and Phantoms

The Weekend Update

I was doing so well keeping the blog updated! But now I’m a bit behind…too much is happening. Then again that’s not a bad thing.

In short, last weekend I saw Cork, the Ring of Kerry, Galway, and Howth. I loved the city of Galway - it reminded me a lot of a college town. Howth, which is right above Dublin, was also pretty and had a very cozy pub where we relaxed before the work week started again.

Because I’m behind on post, and slightly short on time…I’ll give you some favorite moments:

1) Sleeping in a “cinema room” – Yes, I have mentioned this in a few pictures, but it’s just such a “European travel moment” kind of story that it deserves repeating. About nine of us had made reservations at a hostel in Cork. Somehow the dates had been reserved wrong, and our group was booked for a different time. There were not a lot of options for housing because it’s the height of the travel months here, so the hostel offered the cinema room for us to crash in. And we literally just crashed it in – there were some random mattresses, and a few beanbags, scattered pillows, and heaps of sheets and blankets.

But honestly…it was great. Best sleep of the weekend, right there on the floor of a cinema room curled up in a beanbag.

We were gouped with luggage...

Classy room

2) French food in Galway – YUM. So everyone I’m with knows Italian, French, and English (I feel so uncultured!) and are mostly from Italy. For part of the dinner, I had no idea what people were saying. But it really didn’t matter because for the first time in several days, I was not eating a gas station sandwich or a convenience store coffee with a cheap banana. It was REAL food. Of course there was a real price tag, ha-ha… (nervous laughter here because parents are reading the blog) …but you know 15 Euros for a three course meal was the cheapest item on the menu and well worth it!

As they say over here, "Brilliant!"

3) Random rain – Ok so this was not a favorite moment at the time, but looking back it was actually very humorous. It was a beautiful day, and after all the rain we had endured while traveling through the Ring of Kerry, everyone was soaking up the sun. Our group walked to the furthest point on a pier and relaxed happily surrounded by blue skies and water. I felt a slight chill in the air and grabbed my rain jacket. The instant I put it on, three or four fat rain drops splashed me. Within 30 seconds it was raining hard, and pounding us at a horizontal slant. We began to run back towards land, but by the time we reached shelter, the storm was over and it was beautiful again. All of us were completely soaked on the front and dry on the back…lovely!

Calm before the storm in Galway

4) Town and Seal hunting – On our way home to Dublin, we wanted to stop at some town near a lake. I don’t really know where because everyone was yelling directions in Italian. But even though we found two lakes, we never found the town we were originally searching for.

Finally we wound up in Howth for some dinner and a drink at the local pub. I had my first real European “fish and chips” experience (couldn’t tell you which was worse...but then again maybe I was just being a food snob after my delicious French dinner and from being tired of cheap chips). We also strolled along the docks searching for these seals that Alex swore he had seen before.

Let me tell you – there were no seals in Howth that night. We looked everywhere, and even began to make seal noises, which was extremely humorous because they are very hard to impersonate with a straight face. At one point we thought we had found them and Alex said in an Italian accent “Look Britney…follow my finger! You can see the seals!”

No Alex. Those are birds.

Still, the weekend was great. I will just have to go back to Howth and find the seals on my own!

Howth minus the seals...

The Weekend Update