Those Scotland Days

Currently missing a piece of my heart, because it’s been left behind in Edinburgh.

My first weekend outside of Ireland was spent in a town untouched and unharmed by industrialism. A city where anything seems possible: where gelato can be eaten on a stretch of grass below a castle; where ghosts roam the confines of a graveyard; where Harry Potter can be born. Where magic lives.

It's (Almost) Christmas in Killarney

For the final leg of my independent travel weekend, I visited Killarney, which is about two hours outside of Dingle. Having been on my feet consistently for two days straight, for almost twelve hours each day, I'll admit that I was very much looking forward to a bus ride where I could lean back, pull out my headphones, and be transported through the fantastic hills and valleys that make up this region of Ireland. We had a layover in Tralee, and then another thirty minute bus ride before I was let off at the Killarney Outlet Centre and Bus Station. I used the small station's wifi to get directions to my bed and breakfast, and lugged my duffel down the drizzly road.

My lodging, the Slieve Bloom Manor was about fifteen minutes outside of the center of town, but I was staying on a busy stretch of gas stations, convenience stores, and bed and breakfasts. I was greeted warmly by the owner and, upon asking for suggestions on how best to get to the Muckross Estate in the Killarney National Park, was given pamphlets for different shuttle buses and times. Thanking her, I dropped my things and headed back towards town, wandering through the busier center in wait for the three P.M. shuttle.

Single in Dingle

“I’ve got to be where my spirit can run free.”

And that’s exactly what a solo journey to Dingle and Killarney gave to me.

I recently began blogging for the Champlain Abroad Dublin website, and in my first post discuss the tying up of ends that brought me to southwestern Ireland.

Basically, an independent travel weekend is something that I have craved for over a year, in planning my time abroad. Everything that I read on the subject only blasted more stars into my eyes. There’s something inherently romantic about the idea of going off on uncharted territory (for you) alone. And truth be told, the stories and mishaps I hoped for lie in wait for me to find, and I was more than willing to run to them.

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).