Don't Forget Yer Sea Legs (2)

As you may have read in my last post, the first night of travel in western Ireland was one for the (soggy) books. That night, I curled under the covers of my bunk bed and relished in being completely dry and warm.

The next morning greeted us with an unperturbed sun rising over Doolin. I walked up the road, towards the pub we had eaten dinner at the night before, and soaked in the surrounding countryside. I had to pinch myself, because there isn’t such a thing as a world as picturesque as that one… right?

Don't Forget Yer Sea Legs (1)

Three words: I’m finally dry.

This past weekend, a class trip to the west of Ireland, met us with breaking-news rain and floods, sick-inducing boat rides, and lots of rugged Irish countryside.

On Friday morning, forty six students and staff loaded a coach bus set for a journey to the west of the country. (Can you believe it?! We could cross the entire country in three hours!) It was a sunny morning in Dublin, the day breaking over the River Liffey, as we were told of the weather to be. Rain in the west, and apparently lots of it. Within the hour, light drops drizzled over the front windows and gradually turned into what would be a monsoon.

Getting into Stranger's Cars (And Other Lessons of the Weekend)

Happy Monday! (And happy Labor Day to all you phenomenal workers in America and beyond) It’s a happy one because 1. Being in Dublin, there’s nothing to not be happy about. 2. My morning began with drumming lessons at the Masamba Samba School for class. 3. This weekend was aglow with travel.

Status: Absolutely Not Complicated with Dublin

I like walking. I like to inspect my surroundings, press my face against the glass of store windows, inhale the life humming around me. I like to be a tourist, camera in tow, and figure out how to get from point A to point B with a map—and I like trying to get there without. I like to crouch on wobbly cobblestones and take pictures from below. (Maybe because I liked the way another tourist did the same).