You'll have to forgive me for taking so long to post this blog. It was written the DAY after I got back....but it literally took me ALL week to finish uploading pictures and videos. This took work, dude.
I'm happy to say that I'm back "home" in Florence after an absolutely amazing backpacking experience in the UK. Though it wasn't that far away from Italy, it felt worlds away from what I've grown used to. Its a beautiful thing to be able to see the world this way. To hear language and dialects change, to watch the shapes of noses and eyes and cheeks change, to dip into a different life. I needed it. I'm finding that every experience I have here has been needed without me being conscious of it at the time. Someone is looking out for me.
Well, with almost two weeks of backpacking to log in here, I've dubbed this blog the ultimate. So I hope you are comfy, wherever you are. Or I hope you are an awesome skim reader who likes pictures. Or I'm just happy you blinked at this blog for a minute. It's all good.
Ireland:
First day of the trip, I woke up before the sun was out to grab my backpack and head down to Santa Maria Novella train station. The train ride to Rome was beautiful and peaceful. Watching the sun come up from the windows while we raced through Italy put my travel anxieties to rest. I already felt like I was being taken care of.
The flight from Rome to Dublin was a quick one and my roomie Sam and I were immediately immersed in the city. Before even getting to our hostel, we had already hopped on a double decker to check out the city. We passed the Guinness store house, Trinity College, Oscar Wilde's house, Dublin Castle....the list goes on. It was a great way to start our time there because afterwards, when we were on foot, we knew our landmarks pretty well and got around just fine.
Hostel living...
Rule number one of hostel living: Claim and defend thy bed.
Our first hostel was a decent place. Although, it was a little unsettling to be violently poked and shoved in the middle of the night by some drunk guy whisper-spitting, "Oy! Yer in me bed." Wrong bed buddy. You poked the wrong girl. He successfully scared the living shit out of me, waking me from a deep sleep in pitch black. I thought I was being attacked. It's already unsettling enough to be sleeping in a room with 16 plus strangers. I promptly told him (and please excuse my sleepy, irritated french) that this was in fact MY fucking bed as it was assigned to ME and he should piss off and find his own.
He didn't bother me again. Like I said. Claim and defend thy bed.
The next morning was another early early start to get to our bus on time. This bus traveled from Dublin through the midlands, to Limerick, to the Cliffs of Moher and then to Doolin where we stayed that night. (in a much happier, friendlier, cleaner hostel.)
Seeing the countryside was beyond breathtaking. And the Cliffs....there are just no words. You feel so small and yet the feeling in your chest when you look at them is so huge. I was convinced that my feet were hovering at least six inches off the ground all day long. Beautiful.
We ended up trespassing and climbing a stone division to get better pictures and see more of the cliffs. Nobody saw us but the cows. It was beautiful. Its thrilling to stand on the edge of something so huge and magnificent and to marvel in the fact that you are only held in place by gravity and your own two feet. I wish I could articulate better how much I was moved that day. But I don't think I need to.
We spent the rest of the afternoon hiking around Doolin. I walked through acres and acres of land, saw a cemetery, managed to grab some home made Doolin fudge to devour on the rock beach. It was quite the afternoon. I took a short nap at the hostel, absolutely beat from such a long day, but determined to wake up, go out, and hear some real, traditional Irish music. AND have a Guinness. Duh.
Luckily, we met a really friendly Irish guy named Dave. He was traveling through too, staying in our hostel. I noticed not only with him but with any of the Irish, how easy it is to just sit and have a conversation. The Irish are witty and charming and humble, hardworking and so hospitable. More so in the country than in the city. Dave told us the best pub to go to see a session. Basically, musicians show up, sit down and play and sing.....drinking all the while of course.
We went to McGhan's. This place was tiny, and packed with pretty much the whole town. The music....was.....perfect.
The next day was spent mostly on different buses back to Dublin for our last night in Ireland where we checked out the Temple Bar strip. We picked a place called Farrington's because I heard the music coming out the doors. Another night of AWESOME music. Great people, great sound, great Jameson. ;P
When the music wasn't in bars, it was in the street. People played everywhere. Irish whistle, guitar, banjo, bodhran drum...it was everywhere. It felt so much like home to me.
Glasgow:
Scotland was a bit of a nightmarish financial adjustment. We had to switch from the euro to the pound. Killer rate. One pound is roughly $1.66 in USD. Ouuuuch.
I think it was in Glasgow that I truly started to understand what it is to backpack. If we weren't so cute and obviously sight seeing....I'm sure people would think we were homeless. I changed clothes on a side street in Dublin, we constantly carried grocery bags stuffed in our purses with 30 pence cheap fig newtons as meal replacements when we couldn't afford lunch. Or dinner. It was an interesting adjustment. It certainly gave me perspective on how it feels to be truly...temporary. The hostels throughout the trip made me feel that way too. Temporary. Some of them felt like we were paying to stay in a homeless shelter with out the option of a soup kitchen line.
As irritating as it could be sometimes, it really helped me appreciate what was in front of me. Even though there were definitely times when all I felt like doing was booking a hotel room for myself with big foofy pillows and my own bathroom and this little thing called privacy...... I embraced the backpack. I embraced the hobo in me. I embraced sleeping in airports and wearing two pairs of pants because it was FREAKING cold. I was on an adventure, damnit. I made it work and saw what I wanted to see. I'm so thankful. And my wallet is certainly thankful too.
Glasgow was a little less inviting than the places we stayed in Ireland. But we had a blast. AND everything we did was free! Sam's family has actually been traced back to a Castle in Glasgow, so we went to visit. We had the whole place to ourselves to climb around and explore. It was a tad creepy, given the gloomy weather and the ominous crows gathering outside....but it was fun! We sang, "I've got sunshiiiiiine, on a clouuudy dayyyy....." to distract us from the darkest, scariest corners and stairwells of this place. (It works I swear. I sing it when I watch scary movies too.)
After Crookston Castle, we grabbed some more 30 pence snacks (aka our lunch) and took a bus to the Botanic gardens. Beautiful!
Since bus fairs are horrendous we ended up walking in the rain for a few hours to get back to our hostel. But on the way we caught an Art and Science museum exhibit to get out of the gloom. It was open to the public and had some really cool displays. The building itself was really old and beautiful.
Night life in Glasgow....at least where we were staying....was nonexistent. We decided to hang out with our hostel friends instead, who came from all over - Finland, Australia, Canada. I never thought I'd be so ecstatic about a McDonalds value meal. Gross, yet satisfying. I would have loved to keep exploring more of Scotland, especially places outside the city, but before I knew it, we were on our way to London town....
London:
Oh, London.
After arriving in London Heathrow Airport - the biggest airport in the UK - we took the Tube to Piccadilly, and found our way to Edgware Road in West London, where we stayed at a hostel above a pub called The Green Man. The bunk beds there were tripled. Yeah.
We spent the first night walking all over, getting our bearings. We spent the majority of our time walking while we were in London. The bus fares were ridiculous. I can't even count how many miles we put in every day. (All I know is that my legs and my bum better look awesome by the time I get home.) The first night we ended up in Hyde Park. It was beautiful fall weather, people were out and about, and the colors were gorgeous. We saw the Peter Pan statue, which made my day. The Peter Pan story has always held a soft spot in my heart.
The next morning we got up early to do the original, big, red, double decker bus tour. It was great because you could hop on and off to see sights and catch the next bus to continue the tour. It was an awesome way to see the best of London. Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, London Eye, London Bridge, Tower Bridge, Fleet Street, the school where Harry Potter was filmed, St Thomas Hospital, St. Paul's Cathedral, London Dungeons, Trafalgar Square, Sherlock Holmes Pub, (fish and chips!) Buckingham Palace, Harrod's, London's Sea Life Aquarium.....and sooo much more.
Westminster Abbey!
^This all boys school is where Harry Potter was filmed!
We did the entire bus tour first before going back to see specific places, which took up the remaining days we had. It was great because the tour guide doing the commentary was fantastic. He was so full of knowledge and so witty and charming too. He gave significance to all the things we were seeing and told some great stories I'll always remember. Stories about Winston Churchill, Florence Nightengale, the Queen....little anecdotes that made the city and its people even more endearing.
We saw changing of the Guard too! A marching band of fluffy headed guards came in and proceeded to play Abba hits from Mama Mia. Tight.
On our last full day in London, we decided that we'd go all out. Instead of pinching our last bit of cash, we spent it. Down with fig newton lunches and hobo snacks. We were going to eat. And we did. We tried Lebanese food, we tried hooka! We also used the money we got back from canceling our last night at the hostel (we had to sleep in the airport for an early flight that night instead. Like I've said...we were hobo children.) to go and see things like the Aquarium. So fun!
The whole time we were there, I'd been talking about going into Westminster Abbey. I had been interested in seeing it before coming, but when we were in Dublin, one of our hostel friends from Australia gave us so many good tips about London. When I asked what the must see places were, she said Westminster without skipping a beat. She said, "You have to go. You just do. I'm an athiest, I don't believe in God at all and I was moved to tears. It was truly beautiful. It was such a place of worship."
After hearing that, I definitely wanted to go and see for myself. After the aquarium and some lunch, we made it to the Abbey, only to be told that visiting hours were over. I was heartbroken. I had so wanted to see it. I had the 15 pounds I needed to get in already counted and put in my pocket. I was so bummed out.
But I started to notice a line forming and realized it was for a service. Not only did we get in Westminster for free, we got to experience an entire service there. And the mass was sung by a traditional, all boys choir. Beautiful sound. They sang almost the entire mass. The atmosphere was a lot more stiff than I'm used to because my church at home has always felt far from formal. Church at home is....oh, it is love. It is true community and crazy like a family should be. But this was new and different and a really profound experience. It was moving to see worship happen in the old ways. The mass was performed in the same manner as it had been for the last thousand years. We were surrounded by marble and gold and bronze, and the tombs of kings, queens and saints. I just kept thinking to myself...look where you are, Hayden. Look where you are.
After a full, final day in London, we returned to the pub to grab our stuff, listen to some horrendous karaoke, talk to some foreign friends....very attractive foreign friends....and then we took the Tube to the airport. I couldn't sleep in the airport. It was freezing and uncomfortable and I was anxious to get back to my apartment, take a scalding hot shower and pass out on a real bed. I was up from 8am Saturday morning until 8am Sunday morning.
Sunday was allllllll traveling. Flying from London to Milan, Milan to Rome and then Rome to Florence. Needless to say, I'm still recovering. But I was so proud of us. We did it! We planned our trip, we navigated, we managed, we survived and we saw SO much! We milked this trip for all it was worth.
I definitely felt the homesickness settle in on this trip. My best friend got engaged, my other best friend landed a huge internship, my sister found the college she wants to go to....I miss my parents, my DOG....oh how I miss my dog. I kept expecting the plane to take me home home. When I realized I couldn't go yet, it made me sad. So much is happening at home as it is here. All of it is good and needed....but it doesn't keep me from wanting to wrap my arms around the people I love, the people who love me back. Doesn't keep me from wanting to celebrate weddings and jobs and internships and life moments with the people who mean the most to me.
I'm so torn. Saying goodbye to Europe means saying goodbye to the place that is changing my life. I'm living for every moment. But I'm also excited to come home. Everything will be so different because I feel so different. Life will be as new at home as it has been here. It will definitely be a huge culture shock to come back. I have no idea what movies are playing, what new music is out...nothing. I'll need help catching up.
Ugh. I'm excited about both staying and leaving. I'm excited about my life in general. I'm excited about knowing and not knowing where it's going.
I'm embracing the backpack. Embracing the unexpected. Embracing life.
I love you so much. Go somewhere this weekend. Bring a backpack. Take pictures.
Miss you.
Love, Hayden
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