Sojourner.

I have intended, since I returned from my trip abroad last week, to get on here and write a proper post on it. But my procrastinatory attitude got the best of me. I wanted to sit down and get everything out before it started to seep out of my memory. I'm five days out, and finally making myself sit down to do this. Hopefully I still have most of what I wanted to say stored somewhere in the chaos.

Warning: This will be long.

So, for anyone who doesn't know and happens to stumble upon this thing, I decided to go for a vacation in Ireland for six days. I traveled to Cork specifically, with a few small day trips to outer areas in Cork County. I departed from upstate New York on Wednesday (Oct. 1) at around 12:30 p.m., then flew to Detroit to wait for a few hours before heading to Europe. In the search to relieve my boredom while at Detroit Metropolitan Airport, I found the Fox Sports Bar and decided a beer wouldn't be such a bad idea. The beer wasn't, however sitting at the bar may have been. An incredibly intoxicated woman named Jennifer plopped herself next to me and proceeded to drool her sad tale of being kicked off her flight all over my shoulder, spitting a few pieces of half-eaten food on my shirt for good measure. I wished her well and got out of there post haste. My flight from Detroit left on time and I arrived in Amsterdam at around 8:00 a.m. the next day (Thursday, Oct. 2), had to wait about an hour, then boarded my Aer Lingus flight for my final destination.

I arrived at Cork International Airport at my scheduled time and as soon as I stepped off the plane, (Cork airport is one of those airports where you have to take movable stairs to the tarmac and essentially walk into the airport terminal. None of that fancy hallway-to-the-airplane door nonsense) the smell of manure hit me. Oddly enough, I'm pretty sure that same smell graced my nostrils six years ago when I arrived at the airport in Dublin. Either way, it reminded me of home and I smiled. I managed to find transport to my hostel and was on my way.

I stayed at Bru Bar & Hostel during my vacation. The hostel is owned by two Kiwis who seemed like fun-loving, easy-going blokes. As soon as I arrived all I wanted was a shower and nap, so I checked in and relaxed. After my reprieve, I decided to venture out into Cork City. Now sadly, I can't remember exactly what I did next. If my memory serves me, my main objective was to secure sustenance. The street my hostel was located on, MacCurtain (or McCurtain depending on signage), was full of pubs and small eateries. I happened upon a fish shop with Indian influences named Eko. I decided what better a time than to get a big plate of fish and chips, but apparently I was the only one with the thought. I ate my Beamish-Battered Haddock and chips alone in that restaurant, not another customer to be seen. The food was delicious and at a good price, so I'm a bit confused as to why I was the only one there. Oh well.

After my meal, I decided to hit one of the bars I had researched before leaving the States. It was on the other side of town, so I had the chance to walk down Patrick Street and Grand Parade and take in the night scenes (at left: a fountain in Cork city centre). I arrived at Fred Zeppelins to find a few people milling around the bar and tucked away in the back at tables. I ordered a Heineken (ew, I know) and perched myself on a stool at the side bar. The music was decent enough. The bar was described as a "metal, alternative, gothic" establishment, so obviously I had to check it out. After a few Belgian brews (I can't remember the name of the beer) and a failed attempt at conversation with a group of Irishmen, I decided to head back to the bar at my hostel. On the way back, I came upon a pub named Gallagher's on the corner of MacCurtain. The sign outside indicated a traditional Irish music group playing inside, so I popped in to check it out. The crowd was older, but the place was pretty packed. I ordered a Coors Light (apparently a big American beer over there) and took a spot near the door to enjoy the music. It was exactly what I had hoped to see. A group of three: two fiddle players and a whistle player. It was wonderful, but I only caught the end of the set. I quickly finished my beer and headed to Bru.

Bru seemed a bit tame when I returned, I headed to my room to store some things and then ventured back downstairs to drink. When you check it, they give you a free drink voucher. It's a BOGO. Having told myself to try and soak up any sort of local flavor possible, I ordered a Beamish. If you don't know of it, it's a lot like Guinness... which I don't drink. But, when in Ireland. It was less hard to drink than I expected, the only catch I had to get two because of the coupon. After a little bit of sitting silently at the bar, a guy to the right of me asked if I was alone and struck up a conversation. Turns out he's an Aussie named Rodney (above) living in the hostel and looking for work. A wonderful bloke, with whom I spent a few nights at the bar drinking. The rest of how the night goes is a bit of a blur. I'm not sure how I got from talking to Rodney to meeting the Dutch girl named Tjitske and the two Englishmen named Ben and Kev.... or the Italian. In any event, it was a great night with many laughs. I feel blessed to have met the people I did that night. It amazes me that you can bond with people from a completely different culture than your own in the span of about 20 minutes. OK, maybe not a completely different culture (I mean we are British Light) but people who don't know you, or where you are really from or who you know. It really revives the idea of humanity and innate goodness. Cheesy? Yeah.

Needless to say, the next morning was rough. I slept until about 10:30 a.m. and made myself get up finally to take a shower and see more of the area. I decided to not go very far, considering my late start, and headed up to the train station to catch a ride to Cobh (pronounced Cove). It started out a gloomy day, but once I arrived in Cobh, the clouds opened up to reveal a wonderful blue sky complete with plenty of sun. My first destination was finding a suitable place to eat lunch. I found a bar/restaurant named The Quays, not far from the train station. I checked out the menu and it seemed reasonable, so I popped in for a bite. They had a wonderful deck area with outdoor seating, and considering the blessed weather I thought it a grand idea. I can almost definitely say, what followed was the best meal of my life. Because I wanted to try as many different things as possible, I ordered soup and a sandwich. It was a lot. The seafood chowder was incredible. It had huge chunks of crab and salmon and was absolutely amazing. I've never had better and doubt I ever will. The sandwich was chicken breast with sun-dried tomatoes and herb stuffing on wheat bread, apparently a traditional kind of sandwich in that area of Ireland... the chicken with stuffing that is. It was amazing as well. The meal also came with traditional Irish soda bread and butter made in Cork. Let me say, you haven't had butter unless you've had this butter. It was plentiful in Cork and the surrounding area and came with just about every meal I had. I smuggled some back to the States in my bag, it got a bit beat up and I feel I have to save it for fear I will never have it again.

Following my sensational meal, I did a bit of sight-seeing around Cobh, took a few pictures, hiked up to the cathedral and finally bought a few gifts at Christie's. Upon returning to Cork, and feeling much better after a meal and a bit of walking, I headed back to the hostel to assess the scene. Now, I can't precisely remember what I did that night (this being Friday). I think Michelle (a Californian transplant from Queens that was staying my room) and me kept it a little low key at the Bru Bar before meeting up with Tjitkse to head to the Shelbourne, a pub just down the street. Tjitske's colleagues were having a party for one of the workers and she invited us to join her at a private residence after the Shelbourne. Michelle and I decided against it and headed back to Bru. We stayed up for a few drinks with the Aussie rugby team that was staying at the hostel, and one of their beautiful coaches. He was very George Clooney-esque with the salt and pepper hair and incredible smile. We stumbled back to our room at around 3 a.m., I think. I remember calling my mother before heading to the room and her questioning why in God's name I was up so late... oops.

The next day (Saturday) being once again hungover (thankfully not as bad as the previous morning), I slept in too late. I had intended to catch a bus to a place called Robert's Cove that morning, but only one bus ran and it left at around 9:15 a.m. I missed it. So, instead I got up, and decided to grab a traditional Irish breakfast with Michelle. We headed down into Cork and stopped at a trendy kind of restaurant that I can't remember the name of. Possibly one of my favorite things in the world is the trad Irish breakfast. It's meat, meat, meat, egg and toast. Generally it includes Irish sausage, black and white pudding, incredible bacon that is of a cut unknown to the States, half a tomato, an egg or two and toast. Perfect for a hangover. After breakfast and speaking with Michelle about her trip to Blarney, I decided I'd do the touristy thing and go to Blarney Castle. A quick bus trip and 5.60 Euro later, I was in the center of Blarney village. I made the short walk up the castle and started to take it all in. Americans just don't have the luxury of architecture as old as this. It's unfortunate. The third variance of Blarney Castle, which is what is standing today, was built in 1446. Incredible. The Blarney Stone is located at the very top of the castle. I did not kiss it. I know, I know. But the acrobatics one had to participate in to kiss the bloody thing were beyond what I was prepared to do with a slight hangover and inappropriate attire. And, I saw the people kissing it before I got there... it isn't like they sanitize it. Haha. But I did traverse the treacherous spiral stairway leading to the top of the castle. It was made of stone, was wet, muddy and quite steep at points. But well, well worth it. The day trip was worth it. I was a bit cynical about doing something so touristy, but I can understand why it draws so many. It's an incredible structure and something that if you have the chance to see, you absolutely should.

Upon returning from my Blarney adventure, I met up with Michelle and Tjitske. The ladies mentioned they were going to see a concert later in the evening and asked if I'd like to join. Though I hadn't heard of the act, Damien Dempsey (at left), I decided to check it out. Before the show, we went into Cork to have dinner. We went to another restaurant that I can't remember the name of, and I had some butternut squash-jalapeno soup and a chicken salad. Delicious, and so much I couldn't finish. When we arrived at The Savoy, the doors weren't open, so we had to wait for a bit in the rain. After getting in, we grabbed a beer and took our positions near the stage. The first act was some guy from Dublin. The reason for the show was that it was part of the Cork Folk Festival. The crowd started to thicken before Damien came on. The music was good, but the most interesting part of the entire thing was being removed from the "scene" so to speak. I was moved by the energy in the crowd and by their complete adoration of the act. At one point they actually brought Dempsey back on stage by singing a few rounds of a chorus from one of his songs. It was incredible. People were so into it. I've never been an outsider at something like that, but it was a pleasant experience.

We headed back to Bru after the show to find the Englishmen downing beers. Tjitske and me joined them for a good part of the evening, until around 2 a.m. I believe. I was pretty restrained because I knew that I had to get up the following morning at around 7 a.m. to catch a train to Killarney for my day trip. I woke up late, of course, but managed to get myself together in time to get over to the train station and hop on board a train to Mallow. In Mallow I changed trains and ended up in Killarney at 10:19 a.m. From the station I had to book it to the tour office by 10:30 a.m. because my tour was set to leave. I made it in time and hopped on a bus with two Americans from Georgia and an Asian lady from London. The bus driver took us to Kate Kearney's Cottage, where some rustic looking gentlemen asked us if we wanted to take a pony trap through the Gap of Dunloe. The Asian lady and I decided to ride together and our ridiculous journey through a 7-mile stretch of valley began. Thank God I didn't try to walk the blasted thing... I may have died. It was gorgeous despite the temperature and the horse flatulence. It took about two hours to make the trip, which dropped us at another cottage. I was freezing by this point and quickly bought some Irish tea and a scone for a snack. After about 30 minutes, we made our way down to the lake to board a row boat (really no joke, row boat... well with a motor) with 11 other tour-goers. We had to wear life jackets and it was even colder on the water. The captain guided us over three lakes to the end point of our journey, Ross Castle. The experience was great and I'm glad I did it. Despite the cold, it was like nothing I've ever seen and it was the "real" Ireland everyone thinks of.

The night after my Killarney excursion was pretty tame. There were rumblings of plans with Tjitske and the Englishmen, but nothing came to fruition. So, I sat downstairs and wrote. I tried to write about everything I wanted to remember, but ended up writing a bunch of nonsense. It was cathartic however and I feel added to the calm that I seem to have acquired from this trip. The next day (Monday, Oct. 6 - my last day), I decided to hang around Cork and say my farewells to the streets. I had another traditional Irish breakfast (I'm really in love) and went to HMV to check out their music sale. Picked up two albums for 15 Euro total: "Frank" by Amy Winehouse and an album by The Frames -- the band of the guy (Glen Hansard) who was in "Once." I decided to do a bit of shopping as well while I was in the city. I stopped at Penney's (not JC) and found a scarf, hat and two pairs of shoes. Also a shirt for a friend and a scarf for mum. It was a fruitful day.

I decided to spend my last evening in Bru. I was actually good this time considering I had to be up at 3 a.m. to check out and catch the airport bus by 4:30. I hung around at the bar for a while with Rodney, the Aussie, then we met two Aussie girls and a Canadian and spent the rest of the night chatting with them. I got the Aussies to do an ABBA pose for a photo and we had a group sing-along to "Afternoon Delight." A fitting end to a wonderful trip.

I know people kind of expected this grand tale of my solo adventure abroad. I'm not sure it was grand. It was wonderful. I met people that I never expected to interact with. I'm so glad I went alone because it opened me up to everything. Had I traveled with someone, I wouldn't have had the opportunities I did to bond with people from different cultures and backgrounds. I've regained a sense of the independence that had somehow escaped me for so long. The trip made me realize that truly no matter where you go, you can connect with people you've never spoken to on some meaningful level. The people I met didn't know me, didn't know where I came from necessarily or know anyone that I knew, but yet they spent their time getting to know me for a few days. That's an incredible feeling. Just like the last time I went abroad, it was a growing experience. It brought me out of my comfort zone and woke me up. It shook me.

The only downfall is that now, I've only been back for five days, and I can't wait to go somewhere else.