An Attempt

Sometimes I read other peoples’ travel blogs or books about studying abroad and they seem so romantic and adventuresome. To me, my writings seem dull and stale, but maybe that is because I try to stay away from clichés. Here is my experience in Ireland written with as many clichés as possible.

While I was running around my house, frantically trying to pack everything I would need for my five month adventure in Ireland, I stopped and thought to myself, “I can’t believe I’m going to Ireland tomorrow!” Unsure of what to expect, excited to meet new people, and wondering if I was forgetting anything, I zipped up my second suitcase and sat down on the couch. I looked at my two bags bulging with clothes, medicine, shoes, and other random things I had gotten off a checklist online, and hoped it would be enough to sustain me for my awaiting excursion across the pond.

That night I lay in bed thinking of leprechauns, fairies, and Guinness. I imagined rolling hills of green, stone fences, and strange accents. I thought about my friends I wouldn’t see for nearly half a year. I stared up at my ceiling and realized I would be staring at a different ceiling soon enough, but it would be a ceiling that I would learn to call home.

The morning I left I told my parents I loved them and I would miss them, and then watched them walk away. I was on my own. I wouldn’t see another person I knew for a long time. Flew to Seattle then got on a British Airways flight to London. I walked around Heathrow trying to follow the worst signs in the world and eventually had to ask a person where I was supposed to be. Got on the plane and I was headed for Ireland!

Landing in Cork, Ireland amid clouds and rain was a sign of what was to come (no comments from my family about the beautiful weather they had here, please). I got off the plane and realized there were a bunch of Americans with the exact same piece of paper from University College Cork that was to be presented to passport control. I met James, who was to become a great friend, at the baggage claim and miraculously we were living in the same building. My first friend! We caught a taxi through the rain and green grass on the roadside. It reminded me of my taxi ride from San Jose International Airport in Costa Rica.

We got there and checked in with a guy who acted like we were doing nothing more interesting than buying two liters of milk. Dragging my bags up the stairs and saying good bye to James, I thought to myself that I am finally here! This is what I will call home!

The next two days were as full of moments-made-for-movies as could be imagined. Amidst two hundred international students who had just arrived in a foreign country with no friends, it was better than speed dating or finding survivors after a plague wiped out the rest of the world. Trying to find the perfect combination of meeting new people and staying with one long enough to become friends was a dynamic everyone struggled with. Needless to say, everyone spewed clichés and all but the most unstable went away happy.

Over the next four months I would become best friends with people randomly placed at the same time and place as me, and share formative experiences with people I never knew but will remember for the rest of my life. On many days I saw new things and thought new thoughts and made comparative realizations about America. I came to view The Spires as my home, Cork as my hometown, and UCC as my campus. Barrack Street and Bandon Road are the streets I live on, and Cissie Young’s is my pub. This is my life.

In just one short month my study abroad experience will come to end. I will hug my now close friends, say goodbye, and wish them luck in their future endeavors. I’ll say I will miss them and I really will. I will turn back as the taxi takes me to the airport and look at Cork City and wonder when I’ll be back. It will be so bittersweet that only someone that has taken five months of their life to live and go to school in a city in a different country will understand.

Please comment and tell me if you can tell a difference between that writing and my usual writing, and which you like more.