The End of The Rainbow

Becca, finally arriving in Interlaken

            From Innsbruck we went to Interlaken, and I could hardly wait to get there. I’d heard so many great things about it, and nearly everyone I knew who had studied abroad said it was a must on the itinerary. One bus, five trains, and nearly eight hours later we were approaching Interlaken. I couldn’t tell through the window glare and delirium how pretty the scenery was, but it had better look like the front of a post card from the minute we get to the train station after this journey.

Balmer's tent village

            Getting off the final train, Interlaken exceeded my expectations. Rows of snow capped mountains surrounding lakes that were such a bright green they seemed to be color dyed. We stayed at a tent village at the base of the Alps, which looking back now was really cool. At the time, after traveling all day I wasn’t exactly thrilled about sleeping on a bed made of plywood and some blankets. We did need a good nights sleep after all, because come 8am we’d be catching a bus to go skydiving.

Skydiving in Interlaken

            It was my second time to go skydiving but Becca’s first. I went in Texas last summer, and the one thing I said to my instructor after I pulled the chute and was floating through the sky above flat Texas plains was, “I’ve gotta do this again, except somewhere with better scenery.” On the flight up you could see snow capped mountains for miles, with lakes and grassy plains between. It was sunny and clear and we couldn’t have asked for better weather. When the plane door opened and ridges of ice were in close distance, my nerves skyrocketed. It’s gonna take more than once for me to feel at ease about jumping out of an airplane at 10,000 feet. The second time around was better than the first for obvious reasons, and I soaked up every second of the way down, taking in the views and feeling my adrenaline rush.

Firework show in Geneva

            We finished the trip and the summer in Geneva. We figured we’d get fondue somewhere by the lake and go to bed early, but when we got there, there was a huge festival going on. A carnival wrapped around the entire perimeter of Lake Geneva and there was a firework show better than any 4^th of July I’d seen. We joked that it was Europe’s way of telling us bye, and I still like to think it was. It was weird saying bye to Becca the next morning since we hadn’t spent a single day apart the past 2 months. In a short period of time she had become one of those rare friends life hands you. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I see her again, but I’d miss her none the less.

Rainbow we saw from a train in Austria

            I met my mom in England for two days before going home. It was the perfect way to wrap up the summer and catch my breath before going home and dealing with reality. To say this was the summer of a lifetime is an understatement. The purpose behind going abroad was for an international business and cultural experience. I went to work everyday in an incredible office in Dublin for a successful advertising agency and saw campaigns I personally worked on go up around the city. I went to a Mosque in Bahrain, sat on the edge of the Cliff’s of Moher, climbed Arthur’s seat in Edinburgh, sailed the southern coast of Portugal, went to the clubbing capital of the world, International Bier Festival in Berlin, skydiving in the Swiss Alps, among many other unforgettable adventures throughout Europe and the Middle East.  The business and cultural aspects were fulfilled, and with that I earned so much more. Doing this trip was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. The things I’ve learned, the people I met, and the memories I made will stay with me for the rest of my life. In some way, I did find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. 

Culture Shocks

Lunch in Munich's town square

Our original plan was to stay in Munich for one night, but when we didn’t get there until 11pm and didn’t feel like doing anything, our plans changed.  The one thing I wanted to do while in Bavaria was go to Neuschwanstein Castle, but there just wasn’t enough time. We walked around town, ate lunch in the square by the cathedral, went to Hofbrauhaus and on a pub-crawl. These were starting to feel like swaps freshman year, the standard way of going out at night and meeting new people. We met quite a few people from Australia who all do a similar program called “hop on hop off.” The buy a standard ticket, something similar to a Eurail pass, and a bus comes to various towns throughout Europe every 2 days. Some of them stay in one city for the bare minimum of 2 days while others would live and work there until they feel it’s time to move along to the next city. I loved every Australian I met, and it made me want to go there more than ever. 

Becca lounging on the Train

            We “accidentally on purpose” sat in first class on the train from Munich to Innsbruck. We paid for the upgrade and met the nicest Italian man sharing the car with us. We usually didn’t like sharing cars with other people, especially if the train wasn’t very crowded. When the Italian man opened the door to the small cabin he looked identical to the guy in the movie Eurotrip who has no concept of personal space. I thought “if this train goes through a tunnel and that dude is sitting on my lap saying ‘mi scuzzi’ I’m gonna freak out.” (you’d have to see the movie to understand.) He ended up being the nicest man and even insisted on paying for our glasses of wine, making our first class train experience that much better.

A Brazilian Headlock 

            Becca’s sister studied in Innsbruck two summers ago, so she recommended us to her favorite restaurant for dinner. The beautiful town is nestled between the Alps and has perfect weather in the summer. It’s no wonder hundreds of Americans come here every summer. We had met plenty of wonderful people from all over the world the past few days, with the exception of the Brazilian’s in Prague. They have no boundaries and don’t understand the meaning of no. Before even given the chance to object, they will kiss you smack on the lips faster than a bat out of hell. So naturally after this occurred a few too many times, we were so excited be around some Americans and familiar faces. A guy in a New Orleans Saints jersey sat down next to us, and it didn’t take long to see he was beyond drunk. He knocked over Becca’s beer, stole the shots we ordered and already paid for when the waitress brought them, then threw up a few close centimeters from Becca’s shoe. “This is the reason European’s hate American’s,” she said, moving her chair to avoid the vomit. My craving for “southern hospitality” was gone in a hot minute, and I wondered what was worse: the puking Saints fan or the face-raping Brazilians in Prague?

What makes a good tour guide?

            It came as no surprise that on our first night in Berlin – our first night of no longer being Dublin residents – that we ended up at an Irish pub. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be drawn to Irish pubs for the rest of my life. Sure I always loved hanging out at Innisfree in Tuscaloosa before this trip, but now I feel as though and Irish pub is part of my own culture. It was a similar feeling to when I first saw there was a Forever 21 in Dublin – I absolutely had to go.

Fat Tire bike tour

            Becca and I were worried we would have a hard time meeting people since we weren’t staying in a hostel. Every guy that walked by in a polo shirt, Becca would ask, “What about him? Think he’s American?” Our problems were quickly solved when we met a group of about 20 guys from London who were all there for Beer Fest. They were crazy and loud and so much fun.

            The next day we did the Fat Tire bike tour of the city. It had been recommended to us by a few different people as an easy and fun way to see the city in a day. Our Australian tour guide, Randall, was hilarious and took us to historical places in Berlin we would’ve never found on our own. I think I know more about the city of Berlin now than I do about Houston. We spent the rest of the day at the International Bier Festival, then ended the night on a pub-crawl.

Bier Festival

Next stop was Prague, and everyone I had talked to that had been there said we had to go to the 5-story disco. Nobody knew the name, but everybody knew the place. Luckily, Becca’s cousin had been living in Prague for two years and acted as our personal tour guide. She took us to a cool underground restaurant and to other various bars before walking us to Karlovy Lazne, the 5-story disco. Each floor was a different theme, but when we heard “Sweet Home Alabama” playing in the Oldies Room, I made a mad dash to the dance floor and barely ventured to the other levels after that.

Becca dancing on the oldies floor

Prague is one of those cities where you stay out until the sunrises but somehow manage to get up and sightsee the next day. It’s one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever been to, and when I woke up to a sunny day I couldn’t wait to go look around. We had seen Edinburgh on a bus tour, Amsterdam and Portugal on boat tours, Berlin on a bike tour and were now going on an old-fashioned convertible tour of Prague.  Joseph, our tour guide, was one of the most memorable people I met all summer. Not because of his tour guide skills, because in fact he severely lacked in that department. He wasn’t as cute as Tom in Amsterdam or funny as Randall in Berlin, and definitely wasn’t as easy to understand as the recorded voice in Edinburgh. It’s highly possible that he was on drugs and probably shouldn’t have been operating an antique automobile. Despite being a native to Prague, his facts of the city were probably as credible as the National Enquirer. He was like a bad soap opera we couldn’t stop watching. Becca and I still talk about how we miss him on a regular basis.

Joseph driving the convertible

Another night at Karlovy Lazne resulted in us missing the 9am train to Munich. The next one isn’t until 5, so for the first time since I can remember I have an excuse to stay in bed with nothing to do. I love traveling and the fast-track life we’ve been living, but I’ve forgotten how nice it is to just lay in bed. 

Keep Dreaming

            It’s my last week of work and my last week in Dublin. Eight weeks has never gone by so fast. As I remember the whole reason I’m here in the first place, the reason I’ve been writing these blogs, and that “studying” abroad usually comes with a course number and syllabus, it’s hard to believe all this amounts for a grade. MC495: International Business and Cultural Experience… Go work in Dublin, live amongst the locals, learn about their culture, then come back and write a paper about it.

As I’m reflecting on the time I’ve spent here this summer, it’s almost impossible to account everything that’s happened even looking back through my previous blog posts. How can I put eight weeks on to paper? Yes I’ve learned invaluable experience, but doing what? Yes I’ve learned life lessons, but what was I taught? Yes I’ve made life-long friends, but who will I still be friends with at the end of my life?

No words can fully explain the experience I had this summer. I enrolled in MC495 to fulfill a credit and earn a grade, but in reality I earned so much more than that. Have you ever woken up from a dream and thought to yourself “wow that was such a great dream!” only to not be able to remember what happened an hour later? I’ve been living in a fantasy world this summer, one big dream that I never would’ve imagined. When I go home people will ask, “what was your favorite part?” I won’t be able to give them an answer because it’s all been wonderful and it all runs together. And whatever anecdotes or random stories I will remember will only be a small contribution to the entire summer story, unable to explain the magnitude of the experience as a whole.

Maybe that’s the case when we can’t remember a good dream – we wake up when it’s over and can’t pinpoint every specific part, but just know all of it was great. And you know the feeling when you’re subconscious in the middle of a great dream and don’t want to wake up? That’s why even though my program in Dublin is over on Thursday, I just booked a flight to Berlin on Friday. As if I were hitting snooze on my alarm, Becca and I are staying to travel for another two weeks…I’m just not quite ready for this summer to be over.  

Ibitha y Barthelona

            Our trip to Ibiza and Barcelona could’ve easily been a manuscript for another Hangover sequel. Starting on the plane, Patrick got his bottle of wine confiscated by the flight attendant and an announcement was made over the PA that passengers were not allowed to drink their own alcohol on board. That should’ve been a sign we needed to cool it, but unfortunately it was just first event in an evening that felt like it lasted a week.

VIP balcony at Eden

            We checked in to Hotel Florida, or Flo-Rida as we came to know it, and were all profusely sweating from the combination of the foreign heat and no air conditioning. Once we all got our bearings, we headed out to club Eden for Sean Paul and ended up getting VIP tickets. We had access to more secluded bars in the club and a balcony view of the mosh-pit of chaos going on down below. Remi scored a bottle of Gray Goose just as Sean Paul was coming on, probably sometime around 3 am. Before I knew it, Caldwell – a self proclaimed “non-clubber” – was amongst the down stairs crowd fist pumping in his bright orange polo like a Jersey Shore cast member.

Caldwell clubbin'

            The next series of events are all a little hazy, as everything usually is when you’re still out at 5 am. Half of us got kicked out, Caldwell got punched in the face, Becca got lost, and Remi stepped on a shard of glass that made a cut big enough to need medical attention. Somehow Derek escaped all this madness and made it back to Flo-Rida unscathed. As the rest of us sat in the sketchy Ibiza hospital while Remi got stitches in her foot, a couple of guys ran in looking for a doctor and yelling that their friend had just fallen off a balcony down the street. The doctors said there was nothing they could do and paramedics would be on their way, and continued sewing up Remi’s foot.

            In one of the most disturbing scenes I’ve ever witnessed, the guy died after 20 minutes of failed attempts at CPR. I honestly think his life could’ve been saved if the accident happened in another country, and I couldn’t help but think that could’ve easily been one of us. There was no way I could go to sleep now, so Becca, Ryan and I walked down the beach and recapped everything that had happened in the past 12 hours. We didn’t want any of this to ruin our trip, so we went back to Flo-Rida to wake everyone else up to go to the pool. We had a great day getting pitchers of sangria and enjoying the sun, and even got Remi on a raft with her foot out of the water. Caldwell continued to earn his Ibiza MVP award as our designated cabana boy for the day.

Privilege show

            Becca, Ryan and re-born Caldwell left on the over-night ferry that night, and Remi went to go stay with her Godmother that lives in Ibiza because her foot was getting infected. That left Patrick, Derek and myself for another night in Ibiza, so we went out in hopes of a far less dramatic evening. We went to Privilege, a club that made anywhere in Vegas seem like a place for amateurs. 4 balconies overlooked a monstrosity of a dance floor with a pool in the center, all surrounding a giant stage. Nearly 7,000 people are there every night... I’ve never seen anything like it.

Ice Bar in Barcelona

            After 2 hours of sleep in 2 days, I was all clubbed out by the time we got to Barcelona.  It was my 3^rd time back there, so I took them to all my favorite places I remembered and a few new ones I had heard about.  I think the energizer bunny may have possessed Patrick that weekend, so his adrenaline kept us all going. Despite Ryan Air’s 90 degree angle seats that don’t recline, I had no problems sleeping the whole 2 hour flight home. I’ve never been so excited to get back to Shanowen, only after we made a quick pit stop to Some Like It Hot.

I think our 4 nights in Spain took 4 years off my life, but being our last weekend trip of the summer we had to go out with a bang. The bad parts are only laughable now, and the good parts made it all worthwhile. 

Pick A Place, Any Place

Sea Caves

           When we were planning the rest of our weekend trips in July, I got on Ryan air, pulled up Google maps in a separate window, entered Dublin to ______ and went down the list of destinations. If I didn’t know the city, I’d look it up on Google maps. If the mystery town happened to be in the middle of Russia or looked like it was a place I had no interest of visiting, I’d move along. When I got to “Faro” and had no idea where that was, Google maps informed me it was on the southern coast of Portugal. Air fare was cheap and Dublin weather had me craving for real summer weather and a beach, so I booked it and e-mailed Becca and Remi to inform them we were going to Faro whether they liked it or not. I had been to Lisbon when I was in 3^rd grade, and the only thing I really remembered was that “morango” meant strawberry in Portuguese because everyday I ordered a strawberry push pop on the beach. So even though we were heading somewhere I had never heard of, my extensive Portuguese vocabulary could order us some strawberry popsicles. Things were looking up for us.

So happy to be in the sun

            The day we were flying out we still hadn’t booked a hotel, which is quite normal for our traveling style…everything is last minute. We didn’t know one thing about Faro or where to stay, and around 1pm it was looking like we were gonna be sleeping on the beach. Becca sent me a link on booking.com for Hotel Artismar – on the beach, a pool, and air conditioning – I gave her the thumbs up and she booked it. Unfortunately we didn’t read the reviews until after Becca submitted her credit card info, and apparently Hotel Artismar wasn’t exactly a gem.

            Booking.com warned us of the small elevator, that the maids didn’t refill the shampoo or bring clean towels, and that the hotel restaurant sucked. They failed to mention that we were located in the straight up hood of Portugal, but for some reason that didn’t stop us from wondering over to the local beach bar. Amongst Julio’s posse and pregnant women tossing back Corona’s, the 3 of us blondes stood out pretty bad. The owner came over with free drinks, held up his digital camera, motioned for us to pose and said “Facebook!” That was the only word in English he was able to say. When I realized my face was going to be on the Facebook page of some bar in the ghetto of Portugal and I was drinking a cocktail made by a man who owned such a bar, I began to fear for my safety.  

Villamoura, our preferred location

           For the rest of the trip we spent most of our time in Villamoura, a neighboring area that was much nicer and more for tourist. We went to the beach and took a sailboat one day to the sea caves. I was so excited to be in the sun and get a tan that I didn’t put a drop of SPF on the whole trip. My skin color is now far closer to red on the color wheel than tan, and I believe I may have 3^rd degree burns on my back. Despite staying in Portugal’s 8 mile and the fact that my skin is about to peel like Goldmember from Austin Powers, I loved our weekend in Portugal and would love to go back... except next time I’ll wear some suncreen and won’t be staying anywhere near Hotel Artismar.

On the boat by the caves

Our sailboat for the day 

Lost in Translation

            There’s nothing like a brisk morning jog, and even better when it’s through airport terminals. When we booked our Amsterdam/Brussels flights, we booked the 6am flight out of Brussels to give us an extra night. We would stay close to the airport making the early flight that much easier…so we thought. Our parents seem to tell us traveling is all about the process of learning things along the way, and they’re most certainly right. Let me back track some…

            It was raining the first night we got to Amsterdam so we were able to have an excuse to stay in and enjoy a comfortable bed and watch Family Guy and South Park. The next day was beautiful, so since I had already seen most of the tourist sights before I just walked around town with Ryan, Blake, and Matt and sat in the parks. While sitting in the Leidseplein Square, I accidentally smacked a bee to my face and got stung in the eye. After a minor panic attack, I put on Becca’s bug-eye shades to hide the swelling, downed a Heineken and sucked it up so I could enjoy the sunny day in Holland.

Tom

            And then we met Tom…probably my favorite part of the trip. I learned the hard way on my last visit that the guided canal tours are boring, so while we were sitting on the edge of the canal discussing how great it would be to get a private tour of the canal, up walks Tom offering to take us out on his boat. His adorable grin and British accent immediately had me sold, but the 2½ hours for 50 euro sealed the deal for the boys. He took us to his favorite local brewery, where I walked my dumb ass American self up to the bar and asked for a Heineken. When they said they don’t have that I laughed thinking they were joking and said, “of course you do…its Holland!” He looked at me like I was an idiot and pointed to the “locally brewed” sign, then handed me something that tasted close enough to a Heineken.   

On the canal 

             After day 3 in Amsterdam we were headed to Brussels…at least that was the plan. We were told it would take about 2 ½ hours so I dozed off, and when I woke up Ryan said the woman next to us said our stop was the next one. We got off and signs all over the station said Antwerp. I guess in my mind I thought Antwerp and Brussels was more like a Dallas/Ft. Worth type thing, where you travel to one location to get to both. I figured we’d probably have to take a bus or cab into down town Brussels. We walked around the city for a good 15 minutes and saw “Antwerpen” on every building and sign, and for those 15 minutes we honestly had no idea where in Europe we were. After realizing Antwerp is a completely different city than Brussels and definitely not the right stop, I contemplated registering for another Geography class in the fall. Instead, we read the board times for the next train to Brussels and used our hour to spare to go get Belgium waffles.

Belgium Waffles

            Once we finally arrived in the real Brussels, we wandered through town some before getting a cab to the airport hotel. A good dinner, some quality time on WiFi, and a short nights sleep later, Remi’s obnoxious alarm was going off and it was time to get up to catch our flight. We pre-ordered a cab, got to the Brussels airport fairly early, and looked around for the Ryan air counter. Aer Lingus, Continental, Belgium Airways, Delta, and the list went o – but no Ryan air. Remi glanced down at her ticket and looked up “WE’RE AT THE WRONG AIRPORT!” A 200 euro cab ride later and nearly to France, we got to the Charleroi airport 5 minutes after the gate closed.

            I can think of a lot of things I’d rather spend 200 euro on than a cab ride, but I’m not sure I would trade these acts of stupidity for anything else. I can now add Antwerp to my list of European destinations, plus Remi’s face when realizing we weren’t at Charleroi, falling into the street while making a mad dash out of the cab, and cutting through the extensive security line of grumpy morning travelers, all make worthwhile memories. If traveling is all a process of learning, consider one thing learned: I’ll definitely be sure to double check airports from now on.

All Dogs Go To Heaven

            If anyone knows the Omer family, they know Dori. She’s kind of a big deal, and definitely the cutest boxer on the block. Most of my friends even referred to her by her full name for additional celeb status, like “where is Dori Omer?” She never really grasped the concept of personal space, and was constantly licking… So she was constantly licking right in your face. Annoying to most people, and even to myself majority of the time, but those big boxer kisses were what welcomed me home time after time.  After a long summer abroad, her slobber and nubby little tail wagging would be the ideal welcoming when I walked in the door. It hurts more than I can put in words to say I won’t be getting that welcome home.

Licking in action

           When I called my mom the other day to tell her happy birthday, happy was not her emotion for this birthday. She informed me Dori had been sick for a week with a very fast acting cancer. She had lost 17 lbs in 7 days, and after seeing her in such pain my family decided she needed to be put down. I immediately burst into tears, which is pretty awkward when you’re walking down a busy street during rush hour.

            People’s dogs die all the time, and although it’s not the same as a human dying, they still are part of our families. I’ve always been convinced Dori was half human anyway…and maybe part cat? I swear the girl had 9 lives and unfortunately used them up. She was a stray when we found her with mange and starved. A few years later an x-ray at the vet revealed that she had bullet shells in her leg bone…I called her 50 cent for awhile after that. She had the strongest personality than any dog we’ve had…and even her own pillow in my parent’s bed. It might be a stretch, but on days that I may have pissed my mom off, I think she may have even loved Dori more than me. I think the hardest part about receiving the news was that I couldn’t be there with my family through all of it, especially it being my mom’s birthday. I suppose that's part of the abroad experience, learning to deal with things even through the distance from home. I’ll miss that crazy licking machine more than she could know.

Mom and Dori taking a nap together

RIP baby girl

Sam Comes To Dublin!

           There’s nothing better than seeing a familiar face when you’re thousands of miles from home – a face that brings comfort, happiness, and floods of memories lasting nearly 2 decades. When the day I got to see Sam in Dublin finally came, I nearly peed my pants leaving work I was so excited. I think I may have actually peed my pants some when I was expecting to meet her in Temple Bar, and instead she jumped out in front of me on the street 2 blocks before I even got to Temple Bar. Maybe not, but I did tear up some while we were hugging…which is totally normal.

            Sam’s family moved out of Houston last year. We grew up 14 houses down from each other, and now I only get to see her when I go to Austin or when she’s in Houston for a few days during holidays. I hadn’t seen her parents or sister in so long, and it was indescribable how nice it was just to be around a family. During dinner our conversation drifted into subject matter I’m not sure I’ve ever talked about with my friends parents before. It hit me how much older we really are getting – especially when Mr. Toner asked what my next step was after I graduate. I can’t even get my fall schedule figured out, and thinking about jobs and where I’ll go after Alabama scares the hell out of me. I suppose I came here to figure out what sort of direction I want to take, but the application of all of it seems surreal.

After dinner I took Sam to one of my favorite bars here, Pygmalion. We sat on the couches and caught up, while she told me about her summer in Barcelona. If dinner conversation hadn’t shown me how grown up we’ve become, this conversation did. She seemed like she was in such a good place…and despite some life lessons she learned, she had the strongest head on her shoulders I’ve seen her with yet. We might be talking about more “grown-up” things these days, and the real world is probably much closer than I could imagine, but I still feel like a little kid inside sometimes. There’s still many, many years ahead of us, and it’s amazing to know nights like these are going to be memories I’ll have with the same friends years down the road. 

Might As Well Be A Local

            Haven’t written anything in about 2 weeks because, well there wasn’t much to write about. Last weekend Becca and I stayed in town to do some things around Dublin and relax before the hectic consecutive weekends of traveling began. Our original plan was to go to Oxegen Fest, but banking on free VIP tickets from Ann's job didn't work out so well. We went to the Dublin Castle, which was a real joke – especially after seeing Edinburgh Castle. I mean there was a parking garage inside the castle wall, and majority of it looked like a college campus just with a cylinder tower to the side. No mote, no bridge, no cliffs.

We went to the wax museum, which also sucked and was quite frankly rather gruesome. They had a Hanibal Lectar showroom with hanging bodies showing the insides and humans on plates. And for the Irish Famine they had a near-skeleton baby with purple skin it was so starved. Freaking sick, people. I mean there were 5 year olds running through this place. After these 2 sight-seeing fails, I officially don't label myself a tourist anymore. 

            Work is same ole same ole. Still working on this meteor cell phone campaign, and I’m still getting e-mails from the people that sit directly across from me. I find it odd to send full letter format e-mails from 3 feet away when I can hear your keyboard typing. Dicey’s is still winning on Tuesdays, and always will. I think it’s safe to say I’ve officially become accustomed to Dublin life. It’s not boring by any means, but becoming a routine life style. It feels like more of a home base, and I’m even starting to sign my e-mails with “cheers.”  Next thing I know I’ll be saying “thanks a mil!” and preferring Guinness to other beers. 

Climbing Mountains and Making Friends

      Like most people with a normal human anatomy, I’m not a morning person. I hate the sound of alarm clocks, being groggy-eyed, and I only like seeing the sun rise if I haven’t gone to sleep yet. This is why when we had a 6:30am flight Friday morning from Dublin to Edinburgh, Becca and I made the decision to just not go to sleep. By Thursday night we still hadn’t booked a hotel or packed, so once that was taken care of we headed towards Grafton for a few drinks. When we were still down town at 3am and had 5am alarm clocks set, there was no point in putting ourselves through all the early morning misery just for a 2 hour cat nap.

      Despite sitting middle seat, I passed out before our brightly colored Ryan Air plane even took off. A short hour later and a drooling Remi in my lap, I was awoken by the flight attended as we approached Edinburgh. We took a cab to the hotel and sweet talked our way into an early check-in to catch up on sleep before sight-seeing. 5 hours later, we were more than rested and put on our work out clothes and tennis shoes. First thing on the agenda: hiking Arthur’s Seat.

      Approximately 4 minutes into the hike with the street still in very close distance behind, we were already taking water breaks and complaining about being out of breath. My realization of just how out of shape I was became apparent when I was being passed by perfectly un-sweaty senior citizens. Why don’t they have 24-hour fitness’ in Dubin?

A little farther up the hill we stopped to take a picture of a decent mid-way view. When a woman approached us asking if we’d like one of all 3 of us together, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. We made small talk, and she was an attorney for an oil company in Dubai, originally from D.C. She was in her mid-thirties and seemed to have a very interesting life. We climbed the rest of the way, 830ft to the top, and shared our bottles of wine while talking amidst the gorgeous view of the city. We arranged to meet back up with Jaque for dinner and drinks later on. She made reservations at a well-known pub and we spent our night getting life advice while she told us about her experiences and lessons she’s learned since college.

The next day we went to the Edinbugh castle, did a bus tour, and Remi dragged us to one of those dungeon things where they were stage make-up and attempt to scare you on a 3 mph boat ride through a dark warehouse. We met back up with Jaque at a famous bar called Three Sisters for another night out with our new friend. She reminded me of my older cousins – older and more mature, but still in touch with her college girl ways. Looking through pictures on the way home, I realized this was what travelling is all about. You meet amazing people all around the world whom you would’ve never talked to in a local restaurant or shopping at a store. Jaque shared some valuable wisdom with us and is probably someone I’ll never forget meeting. Our weekend in Scotland was my favorite so far, and I look forward to making many more new friends this summer that will inevitably have impacts on my life.

3 of us climbing Arthur's Seat

With Jaque at dinner 

Another Day, Not Another Dollar

I’m sitting at work with the realization, once again, that I really have no intention of getting a desk job for the rest of my life. This internship is far better than Aramco last summer since I’m actually working on things pertaining to my major, but focusing on a computer screen all day and only leaving your seat for lunch break, bathroom break, or water break is not the life I desire. Although I did get to work on some interesting and fun stuff for a facebook campaign this week. I got to make up hypothetical facebook groups and interests that would be categorized with a given stereotypes. I also made slogan and status updates for various company’s facebook pages. I worked over time, didn’t take lunch breaks, and even enjoyed the long hours of being creative and researching funny blogs for ideas. 

But the days flip back and forth from busy to not, and a boring day is more frustrating than annoying because I hate wasting a day in an office when I’m in a foreign country. Adventure, travel, and excitement is what I want to do with the years I’m here, and that realization has been highlighted this summer on Thursdays through Sundays.  Traveling livens me up, and waking up early to catch a flight beats the hell out of waking up early to sit at my desk. I know you gotta start at the bottom of the food chain before you get to the big stuff, but I was cleaning out closets and scanning contracts last summer, so can we skip to the business trips and all that good stuff now? 

You Know You're A Tourist When...

It’s 6:30 am and you’re asking directions to the immigration office, then pointed towards a line wrapping 2 blocks back behind a dull gray building. Maybe not on the typical tourist agenda, but definitely not feeling like a true Dubliner. At the time, I was illegally in the country after holding off on this tedious errand a few too many days past my expired visa date. I was a little pissed off at the fact that I was the only one in the program with this visa problem to begin with, since nobody else had difficulties coming through immigration. I guess the large Saudi Arabian visa stapled to the outside of my passport could’ve been a red flag coming through customs.

This place was far worse than the Houston DPS. If you've never been to the Houston DPS, just know it was a real dump with an operating system that had to have been invented by a retard. After waiting in the line of immigrants for 30 minutes, arguing with the woman that I did not need a student visa just a regular tourist one, and pushing through crowds to get a seat, I was finally sitting down and not in the best mood. Perhaps it was the mere fact of where I was… or maybe that the bus nazi took away my bus card 30 minutes before because I didn’t have the proper student ID to have the student bus card, and that the University of Alabama ID I showed him would not suffice. I was making fast enemies with the public officials of this country and was facing being deported all in one morning. I needed a Starbucks ASAP.

My number was finally called, and my prayer of staying in the country was answered when I walked up to the assigned booth to see a sweet little old man. Unlike the crazy lady I first dealt with, and the man at customs who got me into this situation to begin with, this man was understanding and kind and happily changed my information in the system to let me stay until August 6^th. My bus card may be gone, but my visa is back! Starbucks here I come…I’ll just have to get there on foot.

Homesick for Dublin

            We went to Galway this weekend, which a real dumb idea. We got there late Thursday and stayed at a hostel called Snoozels. I felt like an idiot every time we had to tell the cab driver to “take us to Snoozels, please.” Anyway we went out Thursday night and met up with Ellie Wright, whose studying in Galway, at a bar called Front Door. On the walk there we passed a group of about 30 college-aged people walking towards down town. Every girl was dressed like Holly Madison in Peep Show and it was maybe 45 degrees farenheit outside. I don’t care how long you’ve lived in cold weather, nobody can become accustomed to that temperature wearing one yard of fabric.

            The bar was a lot of fun and played really good music. We almost had enough fun just sitting there people watching. One girl made out with three different guys within an hour. Another guy, who I believe was maybe Italian or Spanish, could move his hips better than Shakira – which was highly entertaining when performed by a male. Around 3 we went back to Snoozels and climbed in our red hostel bunks. The next morning we had planned to get up and go to the Aran Islands and spend the night there. I had visions of horseback riding on the beach, hiking, and going to dinner on the water. Instead my vision from the Snoozels window was a monsoon. In hopes that it would pass, we decided to stay in Galway another night and just go to the Islands tomorrow.

            We started the rainy day out with some comfort food, a little Tex-Mex from a restaurant called Jalapenos that was recommended to us by people from Ole Miss that were here last summer. Not exactly Guadalajara in Houston standard, but if they can’t even get Tex-Mex food right in Tuscaloosa, I expected the same halfway around the world.  We took a cab to the movie theater without even looking up times, so when Bad Teacher didn’t start for another four hours, we wandered in to the hotel next door to locate the bar for an afternoon glass of wine.

            This place made Snoozels look like a homeless shelter. Called “The g Hotel,” it was apparently the most posh hotel in Galway and I could clearly see why. A long hot pink carpet lit up a corridor leading to various “tea time” rooms. Each room was decorated completely different, all with a whimsical vibe of bold colors. At the end we found the bar, and made ourselves at home in large oversized velvet chairs. Two glasses of wine later we were looking up rates for one night in this haven, contemplating how much trouble we would be in if we allowed ourselves to be divas and book a night on our credit cards. We decided 270 euros was probably not wisely spent on one night in a hotel, and since we already booked another night at Snoozels we decided against it. We did manage to steal hot pink umbrellas from the foyer before leaving as our souvenier from our imaginary stay at the g.

            When the rain didn’t stop and was expected to continue all weekend, we rebooked ourselves on the first bus out in the morning. There was no sense to continue paying 30 euros a night to let a room key with the word “Snoozels” on it let us into a room to sleep on a bunk bed. Plus it was sunny in Dublin and had apparently warmed up enough to finally not have to wear jackets out. So our Galway experience didn’t go quite as planned, but coming back to Dublin ended up being the best idea we had. We ended up going out with some other people we met Tuesday that work with other interns here. I may have not gotten to stay at the g, but we all went back to quite the Dublin castle and I finally got a good night’s sleep without having to pay 270 euros. After waking up feeling like an Irish princess, I think we may have found our new best friends.

Tea Room at The g 

Comitting to Commuting

            Although I’ve started and finished my first three days of work, I have yet to complete a full route using the public transportation system without managing to screw myself over at some point. You’ll notice I will constantly refer to it as “the public transportation system” instead of choosing to use the much shorter term of “bus.” This is because I come from Houston, Texas where personally owned cars are like tanning memberships in Jersey Shore – everyone has one, and they’re over-used.

Since I grew up in a town where you hop in the car to drive 2 blocks to a friend’s house, “public transportation” has always had a negative connotation to it (subways and trains are different for some reason, like they’re futuristic or something.) I hate to sound like a brat, but the smelly crowd jerking left and right on sharp turns will just take some warming up to. But when cabs were beginning to thin my wallet and Google Maps informed me my commute to work was the direct opposite of town, it was time to suck it up learn to commute like a Dubliner.

I bought my student pass, checked out the routes, and updated my ipod to really fit in with all the business-casual clad people with headphones walking around city center. On Monday I walked to the bus stop listening to “How Bout You?” by Yonder Mountain String Band, and I quickly realized why commuters invest in Apple products. It was like walking around in your own movie with theme songs playing around you. Music can set the tone for your mood, so I opted for up-beat songs and felt confident, like the first day of work was gonna be a good one. That is, until I was scrolling through my Third Eye Blind tracks and completely lost in my make-belief movie world of “Macy Takes the Bus to Work in Dublin!” and missed the 16 bus.

Fantastic – nothing like being late on the first day. Anyone with a type A personality or over-achieving tendencies probably would’ve allowed themselves extra time in case they found themselves in this situation. Well I’m neither of those, but I probably could’ve bet a week’s budget of Euros that I would get lost of miss the bus. The iPod was a good idea for a hot minute and maybe for someone else less ADD than I, so I took out the headphones and focused on the route map to come up with a new plan. After running like a fool from the last stop I arrived only 12 minutes late, with 2 new blisters, out of breath, and in desperate need for a ponytail holder. Good thing the Irish are so friendly and laid back and took into account I was just another dumb American who can’t figure out a bus map.

Day 2 got off to a good start as Becca and I headed to the bus stop together, 15 minutes early to catch a faster bus into town. We leisurely walked towards our next stop before going our separate ways, and I decided I had enough time to get a cup of coffee. When I got on the Dart train I noticed there were WAY more people on this train than the one that comes only 10 minutes later that I took yesterday. I also noticed the digital screen displayed names that didn’t seem familiar. I remembered a girl telling me that every train goes to Grand Canal Dock so I sat tight, thinking I’d recognize it when I saw it. The second didn’t look too familiar, but looking back now that’s probably because of the mass amount of people around now that weren’t there the day before. So I got off at third, and again found myself wondering around an unfamiliar area fighting the panic attack that was about to evolve. Why the hell was I not made with that GPS gene some people tend to have? I found a girl who looked like she was on her stomping grounds and asked her directions to Malting Tower. For the second day, I was late to work because of my retarded-ness.

I’m not gonna go into great detail about failed attempt at public transportation round 3 because I honestly think I knew were I was going this time. My directional skills were improving, but my common sense was obviously lacking. Long story short, we met up with Ben and his friend from work at Dicey’s on Tuesday night after work. They say you can’t beat their 2 euro pint special on Tuesday nights, and its true – Dicey’s won. 7:15 alarm turned to 7:55 and I ran out the door to meet Becca downstairs without putting any thought into what I grabbed with me. I forgot my bus pass and wallet so Becca passed back her bus card and gave me change for the Dart, and I could meet Ann during lunch to get my purse so I could ride the bus back. Google map gave me some bad news: the walk to Ann’s office was long enough for an Olympic relay (no wonder everyone rides the damn bus). I had a total of 85 cents leaving work that day. I hailed a cab, had the most pleasant conversation with a cab driver yet (who also gave me a bootleg version DVD of The Sourcecode), and Ann brought my wallet down when I arrived back at the apartment to pay him.

I’m at work right now and it’s day 4. I got on the right bus at the right time, and walked in the door at 8:59 this morning. In America we tend to believe the third try is the charm, but in Ireland clovers prove that luck is in the number 4.  

Reality Check

            I’m having that all too familiar feeling on a Sunday night when the weekend comes to an end and dreadful reality is fast approaching – except my weekend has lasted nearly 2 months, which only makes reality seem worse. My summer began on April 27^th when the Tornado hit Tuscaloosa and finals were canceled. Since then I’ve traveled from Georgia to Texas and nearly everything in between, to the Middle East, and Europe. Life’s been one big carefree party with my main responsibilities being to make my next flight (which I didn’t accomplish in Nashville) or remember to check my bank account before I go out. But all that comes to an end in the morning when 7:15am alarm clocks will become standard and the term “rush hour” isn’t referring to the 60 minutes before last call at the bar.

            I start my internship at Bluecube Interactive advertising agency at 9 am. It’s about an hour commute and with my directional skills will probably take me an extra 30 minutes. I had a confirmation interview on Thursday and met my boss and the small team of six employees. The office is in an all glass building overlooking the canal and shares the block with the Google and Facebook headquarters, two of the firm’s biggest clients. I’ll be working in all areas of advertising, alternating from sales, creative design, copyright, event planning, and account managing each week. Long days, hard work, and no pay – coffee will be my best friend in the morning and wine will be my best friend at night.

The sting of reality increases when I realize it’s my first night abroad without any company from home. The day Cody left Dublin, Kelsey, Taylor, Kendall, and their friend Emily all came in. We went to Temple Bar and on a pub-crawl in city center, and they spent Friday and Saturday sight-seeing while I ran errands and finished settling in. I hadn’t had much time to really set my roots in Dublin yet with Cody being here and now all of them, but with work starting Monday I needed to start checking things off my to-do list. I felt bad not spending the days with them, but fortunately they were the most self-sufficient bunch I could’ve asked for. I loved getting to see Kelsey and am glad she got to meet my new friends and see where I’ll be spending the summer.

So now I’m left with Ann and the Irish roomies, and no TV – I’d say culture shock is an under statement. My Sunday nights for that past year revolved around the TV and my best friends, and maybe some Buffalo Phils ordered in. Homesick isn’t exactly the word I’m looking for, I think I’m just finally starting to feel the adjustment. Sometimes when life is moving so fast you forget to sit down and appreciate everything that’s been going on and account all the changes it’s made in you. And now that I’m sitting here doing exactly that, I’m only mildly annoyed I can’t play Eastbound and Down on my laptop. Maybe I am growing up after all.  

catching up with kels

Group before heading to the pub crawl

When in Dublin, do as the Dubliners do

     Any of those who know me know that I didn’t actually come home from my 21^st birthday and write that first post as if recapping the night right after it happened. In fact, it actually took me a few days to recover and regain some brain cells before I could even attempt to look at the “how to” instructions to create a blog. So now that the excitement of the first couple days of being here has worn off and I’m starting to actually unpack and settle in, here are some details of my living situation and what’s been going on the first few days.

     My requested roommate, Ann, goes to Alabama as well but we had never met until the first day. We also got to meet our other two roomies the first day, who are from the middle of nowhere Ireland. Of course, every other person in the EUSA program has EUSA (American) roommates, except me. I realize this is a cultural learning experience, but I thought I’d be working, meeting, and hanging out with the natives – not sharing dishes with them (which they do not thoroughly wash their bangers and mash out of.)

     The little lassies are sisters. Chivon studies libraries and Erin is in nursing school, has a glass eye, and likes heavy metal music. Erin also cut our introduction short when I told her my brother would be staying here for a few days, and then made a bee-line dart to the living room where she flirted him up for a good hour while I unpacked. I had no intentions of breaking that up, and instead let Erin tell Cody all about her favorite Irish head banger groups while I neatly folded my clothes into my drawers.

     I would say the Irish roomies are sweet, because they were at first; but now they just ignore us or get awkward when Ann and I walk in the room. So we tend to spend most of our time in Becca and Remi’s room. They’re roommates are cool, but we’ve all come to the general understanding life in Dublin would be much easier if us four could live together. Unfortunately I think I’m stuck where I am for now, and I guess that’s part of the deal I signed up for. 

     Cody leaves Thursday and Kelsey gets here Thursday, so it hasn’t really sunk in that I’m living in a foreign country on my own. I apologize if most of the content the next few days isn’t exactly educational or rich in culture as my summer is supposed to be here, because I don’t start work until Monday. Until then my cultural learning is trying the rich taste of Guinness at our welcome party hosted at the top of the brewery, and making my best attempt to master the public transportation system. Both may prove challenging since the darkest beer I like is Blue Moon (which is definitely not considered a dark beer), and my understanding of bus routes and navigational skills in general are very inadequate for a big city like Dublin

First sip of Guinness

EUSA welcome party at the Guinness Brewery

A Milestone Birthday Miles Away From Home

           Today is a landmark day for me in this string of days, years, and events we call life. Today will bring me a new age, a new world, a new chapter, and inevitably new friends. Not only is today my 21^st birthday, the day I’ve been waiting for my whole life (figuratively speaking), but it’s also the first day of my study abroad program in Dublin.  21 may not have the same merriment here of first time legal bar hopping as it does in the states, but who am I to let that stop me?  Although I may not be celebrating with the same people whom I’ve grown up with and have sang happy birthday to me each year, I’m putting my inner birthday diva aside and appreciating the fact that I’m in Dublin.

Thanks to a little Irish luck, I’ve managed to find a group of girls in the first hour of being here that look like they know how to have a good time. So we skipped out on the awkward introductions and left the jetlag behind while we headed to Temple Bar for the first of many nights out together. It didn’t take long to realize I was going to become best friends with these girls. Needless to say, June 13, 2011 has been a success for more reasons than one. I’m 21, I’m living in one of the most fun cities in Europe, I have great new friends, and I finally put my computer science classes to use by making this blog. 

                           Me, Remi, Becca, and Ann at Gogarty's in Temple Bar