Blog 20: The Craic in Doolin

O'Brien's Tower

Blog 20: The Craic in Doolin

* No, I have not gotten involved in a European drug deal. “Craic” is an Irish slang for “good times” or “fun.” So the title could be translated to: Good times in Doolin. If anybody from Ireland is reading this (which I assume there are because of my demographics) I’m sorry if I’m using this word incorrectly/awkwardly!

Illegally at the edge of the cliffs...shhh don't tell!

            The Cliffs of Moher has become a natural theme park. I watch from higher ground as tourists swarm like bees from the parked tour buses. The silently majestic beauty is somewhat lost as hundreds of cameras begin flashing. I’m not sure if I would have been impressed with the Cliffs of Moher if I’d been among this mob. Luckily, my gaze had been fixated on this natural masterpiece for the past hour. When I first arrived at the cliffs, there wasn’t a tourist in sight. So I had time to take in the cliffs and all the beauty surrounding her by myself. There’s a wall that prevents people from getting too close to the edge of the cliff. I was feeling in a “rebellious” mood and hopped the wall to take in the view as dramatically as possible. Now I’m not saying you should be reckless, but every once in awhile it’s fun to spice life up with a little danger. The cliffs looked like a row of dominos from where I stood. Below waves crashed and gulls soared in kamikaze fashion. For a moment I wished I could trade places with one of these birds. If you ever have the opportunity to see the Cliffs of Moher, I recommend going before 9:30 am to beat the crowds. Your reward for waking up early is solidarity and peace while looking at those beautiful, dramatic cliffs.

Perfect reading location

            After admiring the cliffs and O’Brien's Tower, I hiked back down to Doolin. It took me about 3 hours (but I kept stopping along the way to stare at the breathtaking views). Along the way were herds of sheep, cows, and horses grazing in green pastures. I stopped at one unreal lookout to have a picnic (cheap sandwich) and read a book I brought with me. It was a lovely thirty minutes before I was chased away by looming clouds (typical Ireland).

Foolin in Doolin

            The town of Doolin was the perfect place to spend four days exploring the coast of County Clare. Out of all the places I’ve traveled to in the past five months, I felt most at home in places like Dingle and Doolin. It was a lot like the simple life we live on Maui. The special thing about Doolin though is that it used to be the mecca of traditional Irish music. Traditional Irish music flourished in this little town making it a little treasure for music lovers. Now tourists have ruined its authenticity but sometimes you get lucky with a good “session.” Luck seemed to be on my side because a popular local band, Foolin in Doolin, was playing the night I was in town. The small bar was packed with locals and tourists. An Austrian girl from my hostel and I were able to get a table up front. There were three musicians. The first was an older man with a flat cap and a face wrinkled probably from smiling too much. The second held a banjo and had stereotypical flaming red hair. And the last looked like he’d just finished filming Braveheart. He was tall and broad with wild, black hair that flowed to his shoulders. In his hand was Uilleann pipes (traditional Irish bagpipes) Together they were quite a sight. Irish music is usually jaunty and bouncy. It tempts you into tapping you foot along with the lightening fast rhythm. I like Irish music, but after awhile it sounds like one long continuous jig. The Austrian girl (a little hippy) however was getting really into it. She closed her eyes and started swaying while doing some crazy, yoga-like hand movements. Then an older woman started doing a jig along with the music. People started whooping and hollering. Observing all this craziness, I thought to myself “well this sure beats college dorm parties.” I’d say my stay in Doolin was quite the craic.

Blog 19: There’s a Silver Lining in Every Cloud

Views along the bike trek

The hike to Conor's Pass

 Blog 19: There’s a Silver Lining in Every Cloud

            My thighs felt like Jell-o as I tried to bike myself up the steepest hill yet on our 35km trek along the Dingle Peninsula. Maybe all that bread and olive oil I had gorged on in Spain was catching up to me. A sense of accomplishment passed through me when I finally made it to the top. But the elation quickly vanished. It was then that I realized that my bike had been in a high gear the WHOLE time (face palm moment). Of course my friend found this hilarious because we were only 5kms to the end of our journey. Maybe attempting a 35 km bike trek after a year of not stepping on a bike wasn’t the brightest idea.

Blasket Islands

            After exploring Dublin, I made my way to the wild, western coast of Ireland. Dingle, An Daingean in Irish, is a small town in County Kerry. Unfortunately this little town has been discovered by the tourist industry, but you can still find pockets of charm in the town despite the high number of foreigners. The hostel that I was staying in, The Hideout Hostel, was exactly what I had been hoping for. It was quaint, clean and felt more like a home than a hostel. But the best part about it was the people I met at the hostel. Looking back now, I was very lucky to have found such good company. One awesome person I met was an Austrian guy at my hostel who was also traveling alone. We ended up being travel buddies for the next few days. Our first adventure was a 35km bike trek along the Slea Head Drive (80km by car). It took us nine hours (only 3-4 hrs biking) but it was worth the extra effort. The Dingle Peninsula holds a rough, unpolished beauty. There were craggily cliffs, deep green fields dotted with grazing sheep, and the Blasket Islands spread out before you. Along the way we stopped at ancient stone houses called beehive huts, the Gallarus Oratory (a 1300 year old Christian church), and the Great Blasket Visitor Centre . Of the three of these, only the Great Blasket Visitor Centre was worth the entrance fee. The story of Blasket Islands is actually pretty remarkable. People lived on these windswept islands despite the extremely harsh living conditions. It was one of the few places in Ireland where Gaelic was still spoken and written. Although Irish students are required to spend several years in school learning Gaelic, many people never become fluent speakers. It sadly reminds me of the Hawaiian language because Gaelic was discouraged from being taught by the British for a long time and so the language was lost for many generations. The island was evacuated in 1953 because it became too difficult to live there but the story of the Blasket Islands lives on thanks to memoirs written by islanders. You can just see the hardship the islanders faced painted on their faces (there were many pictures in the visitors center). And you can also appreciate how deeply attached they were to their islands.

Living on the edge

            Of the entire journey, here’s my favorite moment. We stopped at this beautiful lookout on the side of the road where you have the view of Blasket Islands spread right out in front of you. There was a rain cloud looming overhead so we walked down the cliff, seeking shelter under a jutted out rock (the perfect Irish umbrella). There was this feeling of remoteness and peace as we waited for it to stop drizzling. No cars were in eyesight, and there was no more than five feet of rock separating us from a shear drop into the Atlantic. The only sound was the rhythmically crashing waves and the wind whistling past. Gulls soared along the cliffs, landing near us.  It was like time stopped and the busyness of life seemed to be miles away. Sometimes in today’s hectic, materialistic world it’s easy to forget to pause and enjoy the simple gifts life gives us like the company of a newfound friend, fresh air, or a patch of sunlight on a cloudy day.

Some cool solo travelers I met

            To my surprise, I felt a wave of sadness when I left the Dingle Peninsula. I’m not usually an emotional person, but traveling alone has been like riding an emotional rollercoaster. As a first time solo traveler, you’ll probably experience what I’m describing. You hit ultimate highs where you feel like life couldn’t get much better and then suddenly you hit rock bottom. The worse part is that there’s no emotional support from a companion when you’re going through these waves of feelings. But as my Austrian friend would have probably told me at that moment, there's a silver lining in every cloud. If I hadn’t been traveling alone I might have not gotten to know all the people that I did in Dingle. And as I caught my last glimpse of Dingle on the bus, I realized I have so many great memories of Dingle that I'm taking away with me.

Dingle Harbor

Blog 18: Jack Johnson in a Dublin Pub

Blog 18: Jack Johnson in a Dublin Pub

            *Sorry I’m falling behind on blogging so this will be a longer update.

            Let me share one of my favorite experiences abroad so far. So I was sitting at a pub in Dublin, having a Guinness with this French guy I met.  I happened to make eye contact with the young musician playing in the bar and he yelled out, asking me where I was from. When I told him I was from Hawai’i he gave me a grin and said, “Let me play you a Jack Johnson song then.” After spending the past four months away from home, it made me feel all warm and giddy hearing Jack Johnson. The easy breezy, oh so familiar lyrics whisked me back to home. For a moment I felt like I was in the car with my dad, driving out to Ukumehame for a surf. But no I was in an Irish pub in Dublin being serenaded…so I’m not complaining!

            I spent four days wandering in the lively city of Dublin. As soon as I stepped out of Dublin airport, I was blasted with crisp air. That’s the first thing I learned about Ireland. There’s no point to a weather report. One minute your sitting on a park bench drenched in sunlight then suddenly hail is falling from the sky. And it’s already May! It is no wonder Ireland is nicknamed the Emerald Isle because it rains almost everyday of the year. But despite the somewhat depressing weather, the Irish are the most friendly and downright hilarious people I’ve met. Playful banter and singing at the top of your lungs seems to be a national sport. Pubs in the Temple Bar area are jammed packed with people during the weekends. They are like typical bars expect they have more character and charm. There’s something very lovely about stepping out of the biting wind and into the warm belly of a pub. Everything is warmly lit and has a welcoming, rustic look. Friends gather in groups laughing and singing. And there are Guinness beers (basically all you drink in Ireland) all around. In nearly every pub there are musicians playing and singing so that the room is bursting with music! I have a special love for live music so I was in heaven. People clap, cheer, dance and sing along to their favorite Irish tunes. I felt like I was part of a huge family.

            Dublin is also the hub for Irish history. Ireland didn’t gain its independence from Great Britain until 1921. Then it suffered from a civil war after disagreements about being a free state with counties that are today known as Northern Ireland. During this time, Dublin became a battlefield. Many historic buildings in Dublin were taken by the rebels and the streets of Dublin were bombed. Irish heroes like Michael Collins were killed in order to give Ireland the freedom that it has today. It’s a very complicated history but every Irish person that I’ve met has had great pride in their country because of how hard and long they had to fight to achieve independence. 

But there is also immense beauty in Dublin despite an ugly past. One of my personal favorite sights in Dublin is Trinity College’s Old Library. As the most prestigious college in Ireland, Trinity College has a beautiful campus and one of the most gorgeous libraries I’ve seen. It also holds the Book of Kells, which is old Gaelic scriptures written by monastic monks about 1000 years ago. The preservation it takes to keep these books from turning into dust is impressive. The writing looked too perfect to be drawn by humans and I couldn’t help think how much patience it must have taken to inscribe these books. The words are beautifully drawn and crafted with intricate artwork that frames the words. It’s had the perfect blend of simplicity, since this is a religious text, and extravagance worth marveling over.  These drawings are so detailed that it looks like something only magic could produce. The Old Library at Trinity was equally mesmerizing. You enter and all the knowledge in the world seems to be surrounding you. There are millions of books filling the bookcases (there were two stories) and busts of the great philosophers, scientist and writers along the walkway. It was truly like being encased in a sea of knowledge. Apparently when George Lucas saw this library he was instantly inspired and tried to recreate this library in one of the scenes in Star Wars. I had to sit on a bench in the library for a moment while taking it all in. Ireland certainly knows how to seduce a girl.

Guinness!

Trinity College

Trinity College

Streets of Dublin

Blog 17: How Studying Abroad Changed Me

Blog 17: How Studying Abroad Changed Me

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”

― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

            I love this quote. I think it kind of summarizes why I decided to study abroad. This blog is very difficult to write. I can go on and on about a new country and all of my adventures, but how can I summarize a personal journey? The nostalgia is starting to creep in because I’m a week away from ending my program. However, this is only the beginning of the end. I’ll be traveling alone in Ireland for two weeks before meeting my family to travel with them in Spain and Italy. But I know a chapter has ended. I’m looking back at the girl standing terrified at Madrid airport and realizing that she is not the same girl writing this blog now. Ok, I haven’t completely changed. I’m still me, but I’m a stronger, more confident me. Sometimes trying to explain a personal journey is like trying to explain which came first, the chicken or the egg. But I’m going to try just because I think this is one of the best reasons why you should study abroad. So I’m taking a deep breath and jumping into the deep end of the pool.

Beautiful Maui sunrise

             I didn’t decide to study abroad because I wanted to. Of course it was something I wanted, but it was actually more like something I needed. For me, studying abroad did not mean my semester to party. Let me explain. My entire life up until now has revolved around Hawai’i. High school was not the highlight of my life to put it lightly. I’d spent those years plagued with low self-esteem. I was so introverted! And looking back I think my shyness got misinterpreted as being stuck up. It wasn’t until college that I finally flicked on the switch.  At first I was bitterly disappointed that I didn’t go to college in the “mainland” (aka the rest of the USA).  And even more disappointed that I wasn’t drowning in student loans (said nobody). But I slowly shaved away my insecurities and was so much happier. Next to studying in the mainland, studying abroad seemed like the next best thing. If I couldn’t live a five hour plane ride away from home in a place like Cali for four years, why not live half way around the world for half a year? I wanted to have a time in my life where I could completely strip away everything familiar and comfortable. But the idea of being alone without my family, friends, beaches, and palm trees in a place so far from home also terrified me more than excited me. Was I strong enough for this? But in the words of Columbus “you can never cross the ocean unless you have courage to lose sight of the shore.” So that’s what I did.

Plaza de España, Sevilla

            Cut to the present. I’ve seen and done things I never thought I’d have the courage to do. I’ve flown half away around the world by myself, sung karaoke in Spanish, stayed out until 8:30 in the morning, met friends from around the world through couchsurfing, rode a camel in the Sahara, jumped into the Atlantic ocean in Portugal, saw the power of religion during Semana Santa, and wore a flamenco dress during Feria. It hasn’t always been easy being on my own, but a lot of the harder times have become the most memorable and transformative. Spain has both captivated me and frustrated me, but that’s only natural when you’re thrown into a new, unfamiliar culture. I will forever love the Spanish for simply their love of life. I don’t know how to describe it… they just know how to live to fullest. Family, friends and good times are so much more important to them than money and prestige. There’s even a word in Spanish that describes the time after dinner where you talk story with your family and friends. But I will forever be unable to understand why people party until seven in the morning.  And WHY do they eat dinner sometime as late as 10pm at night?

            I think no matter where I travel or live in future, there will always be that small town, Maui girl in me. Studying abroad was one of the best decisions I made. I wanted to leave Hawai’i to escape my past, when in fact I needed to leave Hawai’i to embrace my past and grow from it.

*Taken from Pinterest