And Now What

"Do you miss Ireland?" "Don't you wish you were back in Ireland?" "It must be hard to be back in America."

.......no?

I will be amazed if anyone still reads this. I would have stopped reading too. I know I promised a lot of follow up entries and stories from my final days, and then just stopped. I abandoned the blog. Truthfully once I got home, Ireland became a mythical "did that really just happen" memory. I felt guilty that I wasn't staying up all night sobbing that I was back in the US, back to the monotony of everyday life. I even tried to guilt trip myself into thinking I was miserable one night, staying up late with some beer and ordering PS I Love You from OnDemand. Nothing. 

Why does everyone come back from study abroad changed, with horribly fake accidents, saying things like "oh, excuse me, when I was in *insert country* this was the accepted custom". Meanwhile I come back and forget I was even gone. 

Occasionally I find myself saying "Well when I was in Ireland" in conversation, and then feeling extremely guilty about it. There are traces of it in me. I always look for Cadbury Rich Tea Biscuits in the international aisle at supermarkets. Today I caught myself driving my golf cart up the left side of Elm Drive. I blast Galway Girl in my car when driving to work. I miss soccer, I miss the pubs, I miss the DART and Bray. 

I look forward to my summers at Princeton all year. I have great friends here, I have stuff to keep me busy, and even in Ireland I had a standing Skype date at 8pm most nights with a work friend so that she could describe what was happening on Ellen for me.  So the fun didn't end when I came home from Ireland. As long as I have something to keep me busy, people to keep me laughing, maybe I haven't realized that it's over. Come September, my thesis, the looming prospect of school ending and real life beginning, maybe then I will enter the funk. 

I wish I could convince myself that I didn't have to feel so guilty for not missing Ireland. Accept that I had a good time there, but that it's ok to have a good time back in America as well. If I could change anything about the overall experience...it would be that. 

Having Your Cake and Eating It Too

Most common reaction to me being home

"You have to keep blogging! But please don't talk about me"

Due to the incredible amount of pleading I've received since coming home, I'm taking a break from the blogging. If I get the urge I might return to it once I'm back at school, as none of my school friends have pled with me yet (I don't know if any read this....). While there is PLENTY to blog about during my summer life, I enjoy things such as home cooked meals, a roof over my head and casual conversation with others without the constant "you're not going to blog about this, right?" checks. 

We're getting to the Tesco story, I promise. 

Parents Have Been Forgiven

While the treehouse is still in pieces, a hammock has appeared. Hold my calls, I'll be in the hammock. 

I'll finish this thing up eventually.....I wonder if I can get a wireless signal while in the hammock..

And like that...it's done

I'm home. Nothing's changed. Except for the fact that my parents took down my treehouse while I was gone. But they also bought me a cake, so I think I broke even. 

Right now I'm surprised at how easy it's been to get back in the swing of things. I came home, Stanky came over, she stole some food, my mom and I took the dogs to the park. It's like I never left. 36 hours ago I was in Ireland, when I think about it it feels like Ireland is the next town over, like I could hop in my car and drive up I-95 and be there in 20 minutes. Let's see how long it takes for the crushing realization that it's all over to hit me. Truthfully right now I'm having trouble accepting that it actually happened. 

This blog isn't done yet, though. I still have a few more stories to tell. I've really enjoyed keeping this blog. Growing up my grandmother always used to be after me to keep a journal, telling me that I should keep a record of every day. I usually ignored her. Keeping this blog has allowed me to see her point. When I would do things in Ireland this blog would always be at the back of my mind. I kept looking for things that I would be able to write about, stories that I would be able to tell, pictures that I would be able to post. It made me a lot more alert and focused than I think I would have been without it. Thanks to everyone who read and stroked my ego with your comments. Hopefully I have inspired you to go out and do something new and exciting,...and now that you're not spending every waking minute waiting for a new blog entry you'll have time!

Good LORD I'm going to miss soccer

Soccer has always been the sport that's eluded me. I really wanted to love it, but I could never get into it. My famous 2 week stint in the peewee league in kindergarten has become one of my family's favorite stories. I was told to be midfield, to stand in midfield, and not to leave my position. I then was yelled at when I didn't run after the ball. It's not my fault I'm freakishly obedient. I would drift around soccer in high school, playing DevL and the like. The World Cup two summers ago had me interested. I remember really enjoying watching a match with the US Mens Rowing team in a Princeton common room. That was more due to the fact that it was me and 10 of the most gorgeous men you will ever find. I don't think I was even facing the television. 

That being said, I have really become attached to soccer here. (I'm not going to call it football, I'm an American, it's soccer dammit) I'm pretty sure I love it for the same reason I love the Olympics, it's ALWAYS on. I don't have a television here, but everytime I would go to pub or a hostel, there was always a soccer match on. So I began watching the games whenever I would see them. Soccer mixes drama and athleticism in a way that makes in the ultimate entertainment experience. I needed to pick a team, which was harder than I thought it would be. I chose the team fairly easily, actually, but accepting my choice was harder. See, I chose Manchester United. They have been referred to on more than one occasion as the "Yankees of the Premier League". ew. They are the ultimate bandwagon fan team. But the thing is, they're ALWAYS on. When I don't have the luxury of multiple game day choices, I have to go with whats on, and that's Manchester United. Plus they have Christiano Ronaldo, perhaps the hottest soccer player around. And it leads to conversations like this:

Caroline: Wait, Ronaldo the guy who got transvestite prostitutes or Ronaldo with rape charges

Me: Rape charges

Caroline: Oh yea, he's good

If this was an American team I would be disgusted with them and with myself for liking them. But since this is study abroad and I'm allowed to go wild, woo, go Man U! Anyway, the point is Man U is good, very good, and last night they were in the Champions League final. Well I had to go watch! So while sitting around a bonfire the other night I asked if anyone was interested in going to watch. I was met with looks from my friends that clearly said they would rather get naked and jump in the fire than watch a soccer match. Screw them all. I was still going to watch, so I went down to O'Neils pub, where I had seen some matches before, and took the risk of being one of 5 girls (perhaps the only one without a boyfriend) in a pub during a soccer final. My mom just had a heart attack. Lets take a minute while she recovers. Alright, she should be good by now. Anyway, I have limited funds for these final days so I allotted enough money for one beer a half. Plus I needed to get back and pack after the game, so I couldn't go nuts. I bought myself a beer, found a nice ledge and the game began. Here is what's different about Man U and the Yankees. There is a large portion of baseball fans who are "anyone but the Yankees" fans. Not just Red Sox fans, but people who just hate the big name teams. They'll come to the bars and root loudly against the Yankees just for the hell of that. Man U inspires fear in other fans. Even fans of the other team (Chelsea) were quiet in the pub until the end of the match. Everytime I've watched a Man U game, opposing fans would stand in corners of the pub and mutter softly under their breaths at good plays, offering subdued applause for their team's goals. I love any team that can inspire fear, it's hard to do, and when done successfully is amazing. The game began and was fairly low key. Man U scored the first goal and the place errupted. At the end of the first half Chelsea scored a goal and I became aware that there were Chelsea fans in the room for the first time, you never would have known. The second half was far more exciting than the first. Everyone had some alcohol in them, it was tense, the teams were duking it out. There was blood, there was a fight, there was drama, it was AWESOME. I was getting a rush, I was filled with adrenaline, I stole my pint glass just to feel like a rebel. The half ends, still tied at one. Well, can't break a promise to myself, off to buy another beer. Get back to my corner, the two guys behind me are best friends, each rooting for a different team, they both look like they're going to throw up. I realize I don't know how extra time works, first goal scored or set amount of time, who knows. I'm afraid of asking such a beginners question so I take a deep breath and ask the less threatening of the two (both were completely harmless, one was just less stressed than the other). Both break into huge smiles and tell me it's a set amount of time. "Ah! A foreigner! New Jersey you say? I love Kevin Smith movies!" (first time I've heard reference to those over here. Glad to see i could bring their blood pressure down a little. I like to think I helped save their lives. We become best friends. We're yelling, we're anguishing, it's great. Extra time ends, here we go, penalty kicks. The whole room breaks into huge grins, this is what they wanted. Everyone grabs another beer...oh hell, why not, I'll join in. Both teams make their first two kicks. Ronaldo goes and tries to fake the keeper out, ends up missing his shot. The room dies. Cries break out. If Ronaldo can't make his shot, we're doomed. Chelsea makes it's next two shots. Man U makes it's final shot. If Chelsea makes this next shot, it's over, Chelsea wins.....HE BLOWS IT! The room errupts, we're still alive. Next round, both teams make their first shot. Giggs, the most beloved player on the team makes his shot. The room goes nuts. Everyone can feel somethings about to happen. Chelsea's man goes for his shot, VAN DER SAR BLOCKS IT! MANCHESTER UNITED WINS! Someone grabs me, we're hugging, we're jumping, everyone's high fiving. AWESOME. I can't hear the audio that goes along as we watch the trophy presentation, but who cares, it's pretty clear what's happening. The game that was supposed to end around 9:45ish has now ended at 11. I have to run, grab some dinner and catch the last bus home. Having spent all my dinner money on beer, I'm left at the mercy of McDonalds euro saver menu. Whatever, I have enough adrenaline running through me at that moment that I could eat grass and still be happy. 

Picture Post

Us on the Aran Islands
"ahhhhhhhhhh!"
At the bonfire in Galway

Starting things off right at the 'stache bash

Awww

My roommates at the bonfire
We spent last night on the beach

Things are wrapping up. People are leaving. What do you say when people say "I guess this is the last time I'll see you". Seriously, what can you say! So far I've gone with 

A) Yep. B)heh...heh....look over there! and C) Don't worry, we both live in North America, I'm sure our paths will cross. 

Look forward to coming posts on 

-The 'Stache Bash

-How we almost started a riot in Tesco

-My love for the DART

-Whatever happens in these final days. 

It's the final countdown.....

Scene: Saturday morning, in my kitchen
Hannah: What are you doing today
Me: Not too sure
Hannah: We're going to the Aran Islands in a few minutes, want to come
Me:.....let me go get my toothbrush

and THAT is why I'm going to miss study abroad. Random adventures with few consequences.

And so I found myself on the Dublin to Galway bus for the third time in two weeks. I amused myself by looking for the different landmarks that I've noticed in my frequent back and forth. The billboard asking you to 'SUPPORT CYSTIC FIBROSIS' (think about it), the house with the giant pouncing stone panther/tiger/nittney lion esque thing, Athlone (the town LEAST deserving of a 15 minute stop over) until finally, Emo gas station

hehehe. 

We spent the night in Galway, having a bonfire on the beach. We were one of two bonfires and kept attracting people mistaking us for their friends. Which I thought was pretty hilarious and led to this exchange:

Irish guy: HEYYYYY! HOW IS EVERYONE....oh wait, you aren't our friends

Kurt: It's ok man, we're all friends here, but I think you're looking for the one down the beach, see ya!

Irish guy: ummm....you guys seem a lot nicer than our friends...can we stay here. 

I also discovered that a 'smore made with chocolate covered digestive cookies are FAR superior to graham cracker 'smores. We had to get up the next morning and catch the 9:30 ferry to the islands, so clearly we ended the bonfire at 3. On the walk back we hit up Supermacs, which is like McDonalds, if McDonalds was a Juvenile Detention Center. CHAOS. Absolute CHAOS. I was slammed against the wall in the bathroom on more than one occasion by a drunk teenager who couldn't quite get walking down. Drinks were flying, food was flying, fists were flying. When a fast food chain has it's own security, you should take that as a bad sign. 

After a nice 4 hour nap we were up and on our way to the Islands. I was originally going to go there last week by myself, but unnamed sources had told me they were a bit blah, and that I would have to take a choppy boat ride there (I hate boats). I'm never listening to that unnamed source again because the Aran Islands were absolutely one of the top 3 (and making a good case for number one) things I've done on this trip. You get off the boat (which didn't make me sea sick at all!) and are met with a choice of transportation options. You can either see the island via Sprinter van tour, donkey cart, or bicycle. All of those sounded excellent to me, but we chose the quintessential study abroad option of biking. I would soon find out a better name for this would be "quickest way to piss off the locals". I don't even know where to begin describing the next two hours because it was pure bliss. Sparkling sea, sun in the sky, wind in your face as you glide down a hill. It was right out of a movie. After riding for about 2 hours we reached Dun Aengus, which is a ring fort on top of a cliff. This made me a bit sentimental as I had spent the past four months in Ireland and had yet to see one neolithic tomb or ring fort. While this one was a bit newer than the one's the Bogucki family usually hits up, still made me feel like the trip was a success. The main attraction of the fort, however, are the cliffs. You climb up to the top and then they drop down 100 meters...with no fence or warning. I've overcome a lot of fears on this trip, but I discovered that heights, still on my list. As my friends lay down on their bellys and peered over the edge I took one look over and immediately retreated. I got the idea. We took the coastal route back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Aran Islands seals. Anyone remember that movie "The Secret of Roan Inish"? It was pretty much a staple back in elementary school and is about the Aran Islands seals. We didn't see any. After returning our bicycles we caught the last ferry back to the main land. I sat down and passed out, next thing I knew we were pulling into port. After a bus ride back to Galway that took much longer than we had planned, we had to run to Hannah's apartment, grab our bags, then run back into the city in order to catch the last bus to Dublin. We made it by about 2 minutes. The bus ride back was less than fun as we were all tired, sore and still were working off of 4 hours of sleep. All in all, however, a fantastic final adventure.

Oh and...