I'm leaving Ireland and am at a loss for words. My chest feels like it's going to cave in, and I can't determine if the shaking I'm constantly experiencing is anxiety or excitement.
The last days were unbelievable, and some of the best of my life. Friday night the girls were tired, so I went to the Mardyke for a last workout. Three hours of ab-whaling, bicep-pumping, neck-swelling, cardiovascular cleansing, and Michael Phelps appreciating later I was as sore as an Iowa fan after handing over the Cy-Hawk trophy. No one wanted to go out, so my buddy Tom and I caught the late showing of Star Trek. Most entertaining movie I've seen in a while, for nerds and normals alike. Good night it was.
Saturday is where it got interesting. Did some last minute shopping and bought supplies for the feast. The feast was bountiful to say the least. Hocine and I whipped up two big fat Irish hens, spuds, carrots and onions drizzled in garlic cloves, curry, thyme and rosemary. Sweet Christ, was it delicious! That's not all either. We also made a really delicious shrimp curry over rice, and my New Yorker pal Dylan brought up some homemade mexican rice with kidney beans. Throw a bottle of gin, a few fresh limes, Team America: World Police (for cooking motivation), some Guinness Foreign Extra, and over a dozen great friends and you've got yourself one hell of a last night out, as far as I can say. The night ended with a run to An Spailpin Fanac and An Brog for some good old-fashioned Irish debauchery. Possibly one of the best nights of my life, disregarding the amount of packing and cleaning I had to undertake.
Sunday I woke up, finished the packing and made my way to church. Church was great. My favorite Scripture reading, John 15, was featured... "My only command to you is this... love each other as I have loved you." and Rev. Dunne spoke of accepting diversity within the church and loving all beings of life regardless of race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation or social class. I couldn't have asked for a better final service in Ireland. After this I moseyed on down to UCC to take some pictures (although it was pouring rain) and a last walk around Cork. Feeling kind of depressed on the subject of my departure, I made my way back to my flat, where Garrett surprised me. Thank God that dude was there because I was about to break down. We took a stroll in the yard at St. Finbarre's, and came back home to see that Jurassic Park was on TV. Today just worked out in my favor unbelievably well. I'm glad my friends were all there for me and that constant random spirit-lifters happened throughout the day. For my last-last meal, I whipped up some roast beef with red wine sauce and mushrooms and a fine cabernet savignon. Fine as in around 6 quid. Fine enough for me. After I parted ways with Dylan and Tom, Garrett and I headed to the pub for a last pint of Beamish, then onto Sober Lane to bid adieu to the Boston crew. The night was capped off by a jam session... Andrea slappin the table, me strumming the guitar and wailing out lyrics, and Garrett right there with me. Hocine watched as we had the time of our lives. Time of my life, man. Time of my life. I love this country and hope I'll be back someday soon.
Slan go foill--- Peace be with all of you.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
London Day Two
Ok! It's my second to last day in Cork--- and guess what. Pouring rain outside. Go figure. I'll write about my last few days tomorrow before I make my last crawl. But for now, I'll continue on London.
I left last time discussing my little stroll around Soho/Picadilly Circus. I hadn't really spent money on anything and actually considered checking out the Ripley's Believe It or Not museum. Nope. Probably not worth the money. I decided to call it a night early though (around 8) because I had been basically walking for a total of 9 hours that day.
A couple of gin-and-tonics (when in London...) later I was nestled safely in my bed at my accomodation. The place I stayed at was in Paddington, Northern Westminster, and was called The Green Man. It was, essentially, a bona-fide public house. There was a bar downstairs that also served food, and the top two floors were dorms. Pretty cool place.
The second day I woke up, checked out, and took the Tube clear over to the East Side and met up with a tour that would allow me to see London Tower, the Tower Bridge, the financial district and a whole bunch of other stuff. The tour guide was probably the best I've ever had. Very enthusiastic and presented an entertaining and engaging look at the history of Old London. Edu-info-tainment at it's finest.
I saw a lot. Some other stops were at The Bank of England (Rowling's inspiration for Gringott's bank) was one of them. Apparently what I saw was only the tip of the iceberg as the bank supposedly goes down underground about ten stories. Try robbing that son of a gun, Danny Ocean. But that was located, ironically, by where the old Cheapside area was in London. I also found out that the City of London pays a dude to be the "mayor" of Old London, but his primary responsibility is to allow Queen Elizabeth entrance into the city. The tradition is she can't leave Westminster, where all the Royal attractions are located without his permission. So whenever she needs to christen a ship or appear or whatever the Queen does, she has to call this guy for his permission to actually walk across the Thames into London. Great story, right? Moving on.
We saw Millenium Bridge, Tower Bridge, and City Hall. The office apparently, to the tour guide, was shaped like a giant testicle and is referred to by most locals as the "Testicle Building". Funny stuff right there. The Thames, for the record, is THE dirtiest river in the world. Gross. If you drop your foot in that water, don't be surprised when you grow an extra toe or four. We also saw St. Paul's Cathedral. I didn't go in here because it was expensive, and I had seen the Vatican a couple weeks earlier and figured I could live without seeing it. The tour ended on Fleet Street, where the tour guide plopped us down and talked to us about WWII and how it changed London forever, which was a great little schpiel. He talked about how there would be up to 40-50,000 citizens jammed into the tube stations each night to escape the bombing, and how Uncle Winnie took the fight to the Germans at Berlin before they bombarded the East Side, working class civilians of London.
After the tour broke off, I returned to the legal district, which is supposedly used as a movie set quite a bit since it blocks off so much of the noise that comes with walking around London. Apparently Johnny Depp was sighted a couple weeks back, filming his new Sherlock Holmes movie. This place was also the location of the Church of the Knights Templar. These guys went on crusades for God back in the crusade days and were referred to as the Poor Soldiers of Christ, although through trade expansion they became filthy rich, and subsequently hunted down and murdered by Pope Clement and the Catholic Church. Since the Da Vinci Code became popular, thousands of tourists flock to the area, even being so stupid as to break into the church after hours to search for the Holy Grail.
Next I walked down to the Old Bailey, snapped some pictures and took off towards Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. This is where London went from awesome to amazing. I walked up to the concierge standing outside of the theater and asked the gentlemen if there were any tours available. He looked at me and said "Tours? You're in luck my friend. For 5 pounds you can see Romeo and Juliet in the theatre." My response, of course, was basically, "You're kidding me. Really? You have no idea how excited I am right now." I can't believe how lucky I was. I walked in and and missed all the boring stuff. Walking into the place was quite the epic experience. Drums pounded vigorously as Romeo and Tybalt duked it out. The acting was brilliant. I got to stand about 10 feet from the stage, and I could grab a beer and a packet of crisps at intermission for 3 quid. But this incident, overall, was my favorite London experience by a landslide. Of course, the place was just a reconstruction of the theatre, as the original burnt down in the 1500s as a result of one of the several "Great Fires" of London wiped out most of the city. But the reconstruction was great. Thatched rooves, Wooden seating, early Christian art accenting the older design pattern on opposite sides of the stage. Great experience!
I still had about 2 hours of daylight left, and was thinking about what to do when I realized I'm a Beatles fan. More of a Rolling Stones fan actually, but I like the Beatles, and have a couple friends that are goofy obsessed with them, so the only thing I could see myself doing was heading up to St. John's Wood and walking the Abbey Road crosswalk. After finding it, a Chilean couple snapped photo for me while I triumphantly walked it with no shoes or socks on. I don't want to go all fanboy or nerd out or anything, but I skipped showering till Friday after my workout. There could be a strand of Paul's DNA still engrained into my calloused feet. Moving on...
I looked around for a restaurant called St. John, which I saw on the Anthony Bourdain show about a year back. After realizing I was in the wrong part of town, I gave up on that and took another stroll through a park, this time Regent's Park and St. John's Wood. Quite relaxing. Lots of swans. Eat your heart out, Lake LaVerne. After this, headed to Liverpool Street, hopped on the Stansted Express and zonked out at the airport for a few hours before catching my 6 AM flight right in the nick of time.
Not too shabby for only technically being in London for around, what 30 hours? Sorry that blog ran a little lengthy, trust me, I can still elaborate more when I get home if you'd be intersted.
Slán go fóill
I left last time discussing my little stroll around Soho/Picadilly Circus. I hadn't really spent money on anything and actually considered checking out the Ripley's Believe It or Not museum. Nope. Probably not worth the money. I decided to call it a night early though (around 8) because I had been basically walking for a total of 9 hours that day.
A couple of gin-and-tonics (when in London...) later I was nestled safely in my bed at my accomodation. The place I stayed at was in Paddington, Northern Westminster, and was called The Green Man. It was, essentially, a bona-fide public house. There was a bar downstairs that also served food, and the top two floors were dorms. Pretty cool place.
The second day I woke up, checked out, and took the Tube clear over to the East Side and met up with a tour that would allow me to see London Tower, the Tower Bridge, the financial district and a whole bunch of other stuff. The tour guide was probably the best I've ever had. Very enthusiastic and presented an entertaining and engaging look at the history of Old London. Edu-info-tainment at it's finest.
I saw a lot. Some other stops were at The Bank of England (Rowling's inspiration for Gringott's bank) was one of them. Apparently what I saw was only the tip of the iceberg as the bank supposedly goes down underground about ten stories. Try robbing that son of a gun, Danny Ocean. But that was located, ironically, by where the old Cheapside area was in London. I also found out that the City of London pays a dude to be the "mayor" of Old London, but his primary responsibility is to allow Queen Elizabeth entrance into the city. The tradition is she can't leave Westminster, where all the Royal attractions are located without his permission. So whenever she needs to christen a ship or appear or whatever the Queen does, she has to call this guy for his permission to actually walk across the Thames into London. Great story, right? Moving on.
We saw Millenium Bridge, Tower Bridge, and City Hall. The office apparently, to the tour guide, was shaped like a giant testicle and is referred to by most locals as the "Testicle Building". Funny stuff right there. The Thames, for the record, is THE dirtiest river in the world. Gross. If you drop your foot in that water, don't be surprised when you grow an extra toe or four. We also saw St. Paul's Cathedral. I didn't go in here because it was expensive, and I had seen the Vatican a couple weeks earlier and figured I could live without seeing it. The tour ended on Fleet Street, where the tour guide plopped us down and talked to us about WWII and how it changed London forever, which was a great little schpiel. He talked about how there would be up to 40-50,000 citizens jammed into the tube stations each night to escape the bombing, and how Uncle Winnie took the fight to the Germans at Berlin before they bombarded the East Side, working class civilians of London.
After the tour broke off, I returned to the legal district, which is supposedly used as a movie set quite a bit since it blocks off so much of the noise that comes with walking around London. Apparently Johnny Depp was sighted a couple weeks back, filming his new Sherlock Holmes movie. This place was also the location of the Church of the Knights Templar. These guys went on crusades for God back in the crusade days and were referred to as the Poor Soldiers of Christ, although through trade expansion they became filthy rich, and subsequently hunted down and murdered by Pope Clement and the Catholic Church. Since the Da Vinci Code became popular, thousands of tourists flock to the area, even being so stupid as to break into the church after hours to search for the Holy Grail.
Next I walked down to the Old Bailey, snapped some pictures and took off towards Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. This is where London went from awesome to amazing. I walked up to the concierge standing outside of the theater and asked the gentlemen if there were any tours available. He looked at me and said "Tours? You're in luck my friend. For 5 pounds you can see Romeo and Juliet in the theatre." My response, of course, was basically, "You're kidding me. Really? You have no idea how excited I am right now." I can't believe how lucky I was. I walked in and and missed all the boring stuff. Walking into the place was quite the epic experience. Drums pounded vigorously as Romeo and Tybalt duked it out. The acting was brilliant. I got to stand about 10 feet from the stage, and I could grab a beer and a packet of crisps at intermission for 3 quid. But this incident, overall, was my favorite London experience by a landslide. Of course, the place was just a reconstruction of the theatre, as the original burnt down in the 1500s as a result of one of the several "Great Fires" of London wiped out most of the city. But the reconstruction was great. Thatched rooves, Wooden seating, early Christian art accenting the older design pattern on opposite sides of the stage. Great experience!
I still had about 2 hours of daylight left, and was thinking about what to do when I realized I'm a Beatles fan. More of a Rolling Stones fan actually, but I like the Beatles, and have a couple friends that are goofy obsessed with them, so the only thing I could see myself doing was heading up to St. John's Wood and walking the Abbey Road crosswalk. After finding it, a Chilean couple snapped photo for me while I triumphantly walked it with no shoes or socks on. I don't want to go all fanboy or nerd out or anything, but I skipped showering till Friday after my workout. There could be a strand of Paul's DNA still engrained into my calloused feet. Moving on...
I looked around for a restaurant called St. John, which I saw on the Anthony Bourdain show about a year back. After realizing I was in the wrong part of town, I gave up on that and took another stroll through a park, this time Regent's Park and St. John's Wood. Quite relaxing. Lots of swans. Eat your heart out, Lake LaVerne. After this, headed to Liverpool Street, hopped on the Stansted Express and zonked out at the airport for a few hours before catching my 6 AM flight right in the nick of time.
Not too shabby for only technically being in London for around, what 30 hours? Sorry that blog ran a little lengthy, trust me, I can still elaborate more when I get home if you'd be intersted.
Slán go fóill
Thursday, May 14, 2009
But there's no place like London...
... no there's no place like London.
That was from "Sweeney Todd" if anyone's seen that. One of my favorite musicals. I walked up and down Fleet Street looking for Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Shop to no avail. Well, of course. Because that's in a movie. And it isn't real. And I didn't really do that.
But yeah, I'm back from my little excursion to London Town. I saw a lot of stuff.
I got there at about 9 AM, grabbed a P.O.G. (pint of Guinness) at the Green Man while I quick thought up a game plan. I was pretty tired as I had just gotten about 3 or 4 hours of sleep the night before. It was about a 10 minute walk from the place to Hyde Park. Which was the biggest park I'd ever seen. The main thing I deduced from this place goes as follows: If you live in London, and you have a dog, and you don't bring him here at least once a week... YOU are an a-hole. But from here, I continued walking into Kensington Gardens, where they have the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, Peter Pan Statue and the Prince Albert Memorial, as well as Kensington Palace and surrounding gardens. This was basically Hyde Park minus the football fields. Grabbed a tea from the Rose Garden Cafe and checked out the WWII Memorial at Wellington Arch.
Tourist time! After this, I headed to Buckingham Palace. Which was alright, just a HUGE building. No guards with fuzzy black hats, no visible sight of the Royal Family's motorcade or anything. From here, I skipped on down to Parliament/Big Ben/Westminster Abbey. I've never seen so many friggin' schoolkids in my life. The only option for seeing Westminster Abbey, since their opening hours are very limited, was going to the Choral Evensong. This was a good deal because by this time my feet were thinking, "All right, moron. You've been walking on us for 6 hours, wearing nothing but a pair of flip flops. You are going in that church and sitting your ass down for a little while."
So I listened to the little guys. Walking into church, I stepped on Charles Darwin's grave. This made me chuckle and marvel simultaneously; because even though he's possibly one of the greatest scientists to have ever lived, every (well, not EVERY one of them) atheist I know does nothing but whine about Christianity and idolize this guy and Richard Dawkins. Their idol (kinda contradictory for an atheist)'s corpse is buried in a church where the Royalty of England have been crowned for over thousand years. (Insert omitted rant on religion). Just funny to me. But I digress. Tolerance.
The evensong was beautiful. All sang by a monastic choir... never had heard that before so it was a first. But I picked a bad seat. I was surrounded by a bunch of stupid Norwegian kids and their cock-eyed, half-brained teacher who insisted on not shutting them up. At all. Even the rector in charge of seating called him on his crap.
Rector says, "Excuse me kids, if you think something's funny then you can leave. Who's in charge of this group?"
"I am in charge," says the teacher.
"Well, you're not succeeding very well now are you? You'll have to keep them under control or you're all leaving immediately."
I cracked up a bit at that one, and the kids thankfully canned it the rest of the service. To quote Church Lady: "Now isn't that special?!" After the service, of course, was a science vs. religion debate going on right there in the sanctuary. As much as I wanted to sit around and watch it, I didn't come all the way to London to hear two rich, haughty women vomit their opinions back and forth to each other. If I wanted to see that, I'd go to a Parliament session (which unfortunately wasn't open at all during my stay in the town). But if it had, alas! FOR ONCE I'd finally see a congress with the balls to spare the propaganda and verbally pummel their corrupt executive leaders into a veritable pulp.
After church I walked down the Thames to West End, where I checked out Trafalgar Sqaure and walked up to Soho to check out the sights, and East over to the theatre district. No Spamalot, darn. After a quick chips 'n curry at Leicester Square, I made my way over to the Picadilly Circus. Very touristy, but it was cool to see.
That's all for now, I'll add another entry on London tonight or tomorrow sometime as well as add pictures!
Slán go fóill
That was from "Sweeney Todd" if anyone's seen that. One of my favorite musicals. I walked up and down Fleet Street looking for Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Shop to no avail. Well, of course. Because that's in a movie. And it isn't real. And I didn't really do that.
But yeah, I'm back from my little excursion to London Town. I saw a lot of stuff.
I got there at about 9 AM, grabbed a P.O.G. (pint of Guinness) at the Green Man while I quick thought up a game plan. I was pretty tired as I had just gotten about 3 or 4 hours of sleep the night before. It was about a 10 minute walk from the place to Hyde Park. Which was the biggest park I'd ever seen. The main thing I deduced from this place goes as follows: If you live in London, and you have a dog, and you don't bring him here at least once a week... YOU are an a-hole. But from here, I continued walking into Kensington Gardens, where they have the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, Peter Pan Statue and the Prince Albert Memorial, as well as Kensington Palace and surrounding gardens. This was basically Hyde Park minus the football fields. Grabbed a tea from the Rose Garden Cafe and checked out the WWII Memorial at Wellington Arch.
Tourist time! After this, I headed to Buckingham Palace. Which was alright, just a HUGE building. No guards with fuzzy black hats, no visible sight of the Royal Family's motorcade or anything. From here, I skipped on down to Parliament/Big Ben/Westminster Abbey. I've never seen so many friggin' schoolkids in my life. The only option for seeing Westminster Abbey, since their opening hours are very limited, was going to the Choral Evensong. This was a good deal because by this time my feet were thinking, "All right, moron. You've been walking on us for 6 hours, wearing nothing but a pair of flip flops. You are going in that church and sitting your ass down for a little while."
So I listened to the little guys. Walking into church, I stepped on Charles Darwin's grave. This made me chuckle and marvel simultaneously; because even though he's possibly one of the greatest scientists to have ever lived, every (well, not EVERY one of them) atheist I know does nothing but whine about Christianity and idolize this guy and Richard Dawkins. Their idol (kinda contradictory for an atheist)'s corpse is buried in a church where the Royalty of England have been crowned for over thousand years. (Insert omitted rant on religion). Just funny to me. But I digress. Tolerance.
The evensong was beautiful. All sang by a monastic choir... never had heard that before so it was a first. But I picked a bad seat. I was surrounded by a bunch of stupid Norwegian kids and their cock-eyed, half-brained teacher who insisted on not shutting them up. At all. Even the rector in charge of seating called him on his crap.
Rector says, "Excuse me kids, if you think something's funny then you can leave. Who's in charge of this group?"
"I am in charge," says the teacher.
"Well, you're not succeeding very well now are you? You'll have to keep them under control or you're all leaving immediately."
I cracked up a bit at that one, and the kids thankfully canned it the rest of the service. To quote Church Lady: "Now isn't that special?!" After the service, of course, was a science vs. religion debate going on right there in the sanctuary. As much as I wanted to sit around and watch it, I didn't come all the way to London to hear two rich, haughty women vomit their opinions back and forth to each other. If I wanted to see that, I'd go to a Parliament session (which unfortunately wasn't open at all during my stay in the town). But if it had, alas! FOR ONCE I'd finally see a congress with the balls to spare the propaganda and verbally pummel their corrupt executive leaders into a veritable pulp.
After church I walked down the Thames to West End, where I checked out Trafalgar Sqaure and walked up to Soho to check out the sights, and East over to the theatre district. No Spamalot, darn. After a quick chips 'n curry at Leicester Square, I made my way over to the Picadilly Circus. Very touristy, but it was cool to see.
That's all for now, I'll add another entry on London tonight or tomorrow sometime as well as add pictures!
Slán go fóill
Monday, May 11, 2009
A whole bunch of maybes.
Welp, sweet.
All done with finals, and I'm leaving in a week! Leaving this scenic wonder of a place. Oh, boy. The weather. The craic. The air. The people. It's all going to change in about a week.
Took me about 20 seconds to write this sentence for lack of something to say.
I guess that's just kind of how it goes. After I "advertising majored" it through my last exam, I shut the blue book, held it up in the air, and that was when it hit me-- I'm leaving my second home in one week and won't be coming back for a long time. This is crazy. Did someone tie my ankle to the small arm of the clock and sit there spinning it like a kid with ADHD and no Nintendo? Is this some kind of joke that the powers that be are playing on us? Why does it speed up so much?
Anyways, I'd go into the whole "Why I'll miss it so much" spiel, but that's not what I'm about. I'm not going to dwell on what I don't have, or the people I can't be with. Moping is counter-productive. The friends I've made here have a very close bond, not just within each other but within the atmosphere we have come to love so well. But we have all matured greatly in our time here, even if we don't show it. My life is not going to suck when I get back. I'm not going to sit there and compare the life I've recently lived with my past life.
Home's coming, and it's going to be fantastic. I'll make it fantastic. This is probably the biggest lesson learned here. It's cliched, but life is only as good as you make it to be. And this last semester was an in-fricking-credible ride. It's been good.
To be honest, I know I've changed but I have no idea how. That's for everyone else to decide. Maybe you can tell already. Maybe not. I'm not expecting anything when I return home. Not expecting the same ol', same ol'. Everyone else has changed as I have... that is the way of things. The mind is open and ready to absorb. I've become pretty good at that, seems how I've been doing it at a constant rate for the past 140 days, excluding the pub sessions and following slumber.
I'm just going to return back, happy as a fat kid with an endless supply of beef (wait...) I'm really excited to see everyone, and to see how people have changed. Maybe I'll run into some people that I had taken for granted before I left. It's just a whole bunch of maybe's at the moment.
Finals are done, my room is going through a thorough cleaning process, and I'm currently jamming all my junk into the one suitcase I brought with me. I must be daft to think I'm going to cram all that stuff in one suitcase, but dammit I'm going to try. Tomorrow I'm flying solo to London on a 20 hour siteseeing frenzy, then figure out how in God's name I'll say goodbye to the, what... dozens of friends I've made and come to love and secretly loathe over the semester. This will be fun. Maybe I'll think of something really funny and write it down and post it on the blog in the mean time.
Oh, almost forgot. Last weekend I went to Galway. Saw a really good U2 cover band and stood on the edge of a (don't quote me on this) 300 foot cliff. I have an intense fear of heights, so this was quite an achievement for me. Considering that the sporadic wind gusts had to have been in the 40-5o mph range, I wasn't exactly being safe walking the brink of certain death. But I'm writing so two-thumbs up for that! The waves were so huge that they would crush against the cliffs, sending salt water at least a solid 60 feet above the ground, pelting the sight-seers, which was amazing to me. It was beautiful. Here's a picture:
Thanks for reading this whole semester everyone, I really appreciate it. I'll keep writing every once in a while over the next week if I think of anything.
Oh yeah, I'm also 21 in 9 days. Seriously? That's the age of an official adult. Great.
Peace out,
Slán go fóill
--Brendan
All done with finals, and I'm leaving in a week! Leaving this scenic wonder of a place. Oh, boy. The weather. The craic. The air. The people. It's all going to change in about a week.
Took me about 20 seconds to write this sentence for lack of something to say.
I guess that's just kind of how it goes. After I "advertising majored" it through my last exam, I shut the blue book, held it up in the air, and that was when it hit me-- I'm leaving my second home in one week and won't be coming back for a long time. This is crazy. Did someone tie my ankle to the small arm of the clock and sit there spinning it like a kid with ADHD and no Nintendo? Is this some kind of joke that the powers that be are playing on us? Why does it speed up so much?
Anyways, I'd go into the whole "Why I'll miss it so much" spiel, but that's not what I'm about. I'm not going to dwell on what I don't have, or the people I can't be with. Moping is counter-productive. The friends I've made here have a very close bond, not just within each other but within the atmosphere we have come to love so well. But we have all matured greatly in our time here, even if we don't show it. My life is not going to suck when I get back. I'm not going to sit there and compare the life I've recently lived with my past life.
Home's coming, and it's going to be fantastic. I'll make it fantastic. This is probably the biggest lesson learned here. It's cliched, but life is only as good as you make it to be. And this last semester was an in-fricking-credible ride. It's been good.
To be honest, I know I've changed but I have no idea how. That's for everyone else to decide. Maybe you can tell already. Maybe not. I'm not expecting anything when I return home. Not expecting the same ol', same ol'. Everyone else has changed as I have... that is the way of things. The mind is open and ready to absorb. I've become pretty good at that, seems how I've been doing it at a constant rate for the past 140 days, excluding the pub sessions and following slumber.
I'm just going to return back, happy as a fat kid with an endless supply of beef (wait...) I'm really excited to see everyone, and to see how people have changed. Maybe I'll run into some people that I had taken for granted before I left. It's just a whole bunch of maybe's at the moment.
Finals are done, my room is going through a thorough cleaning process, and I'm currently jamming all my junk into the one suitcase I brought with me. I must be daft to think I'm going to cram all that stuff in one suitcase, but dammit I'm going to try. Tomorrow I'm flying solo to London on a 20 hour siteseeing frenzy, then figure out how in God's name I'll say goodbye to the, what... dozens of friends I've made and come to love and secretly loathe over the semester. This will be fun. Maybe I'll think of something really funny and write it down and post it on the blog in the mean time.
Oh, almost forgot. Last weekend I went to Galway. Saw a really good U2 cover band and stood on the edge of a (don't quote me on this) 300 foot cliff. I have an intense fear of heights, so this was quite an achievement for me. Considering that the sporadic wind gusts had to have been in the 40-5o mph range, I wasn't exactly being safe walking the brink of certain death. But I'm writing so two-thumbs up for that! The waves were so huge that they would crush against the cliffs, sending salt water at least a solid 60 feet above the ground, pelting the sight-seers, which was amazing to me. It was beautiful. Here's a picture:
Thanks for reading this whole semester everyone, I really appreciate it. I'll keep writing every once in a while over the next week if I think of anything.
Oh yeah, I'm also 21 in 9 days. Seriously? That's the age of an official adult. Great.
Peace out,
Slán go fóill
--Brendan
Sunday, May 3, 2009
The Long and Winding Road
Well, I'm safe and sound, back in the greatest country in the world. Ireland. Man, I love this place. To a gross extent. I literally kissed the ground when I hopped off the bus from Dublin the other night. But I was glad to be back indeed. The ride from Dublin to Cork was one to remember. The iPod battery was shot, but it miraculously played through a solid 4 albums before kicking the bucket. Sheep, cattle, hills, little towns with different colored buildings. It made me wonder what the hell I was doing in Dublin all day looking at gray buildings and a touristy brewery, when I could have been walking about, gazing at the Irish landscape. Beautiful. Especially Co. Tipperary.
Anyways, I've successfully made it through the thick, dense cultural beef stock that is the continent of Europe. The long and winding road has brought me back here. Over the span of 30 days, I have seen enough places and had enough insane/gorgeous/shocking experiences to fill four lifetimes. Over 30 days. My brain is a tick about to pop. Over the last semester, I have been to 11 countries, experienced at least a half a dozen or more different languages and dialects, and learned to conquer public transportation with an iron fist. And my legs couldn't be in better shape. I challenge you to a foot race when I return.
I've been ripped-off by a Roman cab driver, sang drinking songs with Germans, spelunked to various evening recreational locations in Prague, burned my pale, white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant skin on a black beach in the Aegan Sea, walked the foothills of the French Alps, sailed a boat into
the Atlantic in Portugal, rode a 4-wheeler up a Greek mountain, saw the throne where St. Peter was once seated, munched on tapas in Madrid, mowed down on pizza in front of the Pantheon, witnessed beautiful music in Venice, took a gander at the Book of Kells, scarfed a waffle in Belgium and capped it all off with a nice pint of Guinness in Dublin.But that last sentence hardly scraped the surface of it all. Not even close. If you would like more stories, I'll be whipping up a huge PowerPoint over the month of June covering it all. The whole she-bang. I will gladly e-mail it to you. Or of course, I'd gladly explain it over a steak, some noodles or other meat/gravy/bread combination.
Iowa is calling me, and it's time to return. But the arms of Ireland will be forever tugging at my heels. In church this morning a lady said to me, "You might not have any Irish blood in you, but no worries, you will when you get back to the states. It'll be flowing then. You get hooked." I gotta tell ya, the blood pressure's starting to soar.
The next couple weeks are my last. I'm headed home the 18th. It's so close I can taste it. It's sweet and ripe. But to get to the strawberries, first I've gotta climb through the obstacle of finals and make a quick getaway to London-town. I'll keep updating as the week goes on.
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