Though I may be the tiniest bit Irish, the luck of the Irish seems not to have made it to my blood… yet, at least.
I consider myself to be a fairly lucky person overall, so what I refer to here is my trip to Ireland last year. For the past semester, I had been studying abroad in London, and I had the wonderful opportunity to travel a lot. I visited friends as close as Cambridge and as far as Krakow, Poland and Tuttlingen, Germany. Every time, though, I’d always either travel with my friends or meet friends where I was traveling. I wanted one solitary experience where it was just me, figuring out the ropes and going my own way. So I started by buying the handful of tickets (it took a train, ferry, and bus) necessary to get me to Dublin, Ireland.
This was a birthday present to myself, and let me tell you: I was pumped. When it comes to travel, I always thought of myself as a very passive planner, but it turns out it was just because I had a habit of always going along with what everyone else had already planned, which was fine by me, but this time was totally different. I booked a spot in a literary pub crawl complete with reenactments of famous writers and playwrights (dorky, I know), then a guided bus tour of the Wicklow Mountains. I think I spent a few hundred dollars including travel and a dinky little Airbnb, so I was feeling very good about all of this.
Then… a few days before my departure, I got sick. It was just a cold, I kept telling myself, and what’s a few sniffles going to do to ruin a perfectly planned birthday trip? Let me tell you — a few sniffles can go a long way. My birthday is at the tail end of November, so it was frigid as well.
So, luck. It is something I did not have that weekend, despite my Irish blood and the fact that I always wear green on St. Patty’s day, knock on wood if someone talks about bad things happening, and throw salt over my left shoulder if I spill any.
What I did have, however, was a fantastic time. Sure, I couldn’t taste any of the four pints of Guinness I drank on the pub crawl and I probably got twice as sick from standing for so long in the cold rain because I refused to buy another cup of coffee just to warm up, but these are all just reasons in my mind that I must go back again. If you read my last post (talking to you, Mom and Dad), you know that I am pretty much determined, now, to move to Korea in about a year, then to London a year after that.
So what’s the likelihood I’ll be seeing Dublin again? With a little luck, I’d say about 100%.