U.K. and Ireland

A look into my various grand (mis)adventures throughout Europe

So here we are, the last entry of the ~travel~ portion of this blog. It seems fitting that the break was almost the same amount of time as a regular term, because in these past seven weeks I have learned a lot. I have booked bus tickets and lodging, rescheduled said bus tickets and lodging, navigated winding city streets, walked up and down too many steep slopes to count, learned the art of maximizing one's clothing, and lugged my trusty airport-regulated luggage across seven countries. Although in the moment most of these things were usually cause for stress, they were all undoubtedly valuable learning experiences. While I was fortunate enough to see breathtaking sights and make irreplaceable memories, I was also growing in confidence and independence: realizing my capacity to be self-sufficient. Or if anything, I now know how to read military time.

That being said, I was incredibly relieved and happy to land back in the U.K., the land of meal deals, unpredictable weather, and mostly English speakers. My first stop was in St. Andrews, Scotland (cue the Outlander theme). I first heard about St. Andrews through my current college, which has a close relationship with its university: so a lot about academics, and virtually nothing about the town itself. If I were to describe my experience in this place with one word, it would be "surprising." But I suppose with my current travel record, I should anticipate the surprise element.

My longstanding impression of Scotland was something like rolling green fields, quaint villages, and sheep. The bus ride to St. Andrews consisted of rolling green fields, quaint villages, and sheep. For the whole two hours I was fully expecting St. Andrews, or at least the university, to conform to the schema I was seeing out my window. The town itself is rather small, but that made my view all the more impressive, and my expectations all the more surpassed. In the blink of an eye, I saw all the facets of its beauty: vast coastline, tightly-packed houses and businesses, historic ruins, and of course, an immaculate golf course. It was like crossing a threshold into an equally beautiful but somehow different place in time (cue Outlander theme). I was also lucky enough to be in Scotland during a string of uncharacteristically sunny days, so I was able to see St. Andrews in its full brilliance.

St. Andrews was also a reunion of sorts; I stayed with a lovely friend of mine from college who is studying abroad at the university, and met with two other friends who I have known since high school. It was a weirdly wonderful moment when I realized these two worlds were colliding: all these people from different stages in my life intersecting at this one spot, far from home for all of us. It was also interesting to hear about their unique experiences, since one was a full-time student and the others would only be there for the rest of the term. Until this point I had only been around students who were going through the same motions as me in the same university, but here the nuanced differences between St. Andrews and Oxonian student life became evident. Alas, my stay in St. Andrews was not long, and less than 48 hours later I had to catch the bus back to Edinburgh Airport.

That very night I was reunited with my sister, who I hadn't seen since I left home in January! It was nice to end this incredible but tiring vacation with family; I could slowly start to decompress, and take comfort in the fact that I knew who I was going to be sleeping in the room with each night.

Our first stop was London--which, if you will recall, I had been to once before: the day before I arrived in Oxford. Although a fun and memorable time, those 36-ish hours were also clouded by much stress, anxiety, and uncertainty, all in anticipation of the "studying abroad" to come. So you could say that this stint in London was a new experience altogether, one seen with an older and wiser set of eyes. It was an amusing twist of fate to not only arrive in the same terminal and take the same transportation as in January, but to even stay in the same hotel that rested mine and my parents' jet-lagged heads for two nights. This time, I was ready to fully invest myself in enjoying my time in London and seeing the city at a slower, perhaps more agreeable pace.

For the next two days my sister and I embodied what I consider the two extremes of the "tourist" stereotype: the aimless, wandering sort, and the disciplined, meticulous type. On our first day we were more the former, when we found breakfast in a charming little cafe in Notting Hill (have I mentioned I love scones now?) and walked leisurely through the open-air market that lined the quiet streets. Our scenery changed from artsy, colorful houses to facades of pristine white brick in a matter of blocks. The unhurried vibe of it all almost made me feel like we were just average locals, strolling through the boroughs and taking the occasional break on park playgrounds (no children were shoved in the fulfillment of this pastime).

In the evening we did even more meandering in Cardinal Place, where the historic Westminster Cathedral (not to be confused with the Abbey) was right across the street from a string of popular stores. To cap off the day, the Wonderful Sister had snagged us tickets for the West End production of Wicked. I was reminded that seeing a show live imparts an indescribable magic and energy, one that cannot be replicated by a bootleg video at one in the morning...not that I'm speaking from experience or anything.

The second day, which involved hitting as many landmarks in London as possible, was brought to you by Big Bus Tours. I had never been on one before, but it was essentially a regular bus system equipped with a witty, dry-humored tour guide sitting on the roof. These hop-on/hop-off tours are a great choice for a short stay in the city, because even if you simply need to get to a specific place in London, you'll learn something new while navigating the inevitably clogged streets. Our ticket even came with a river cruise down the Thames, and in addition to our unusually sunny view of London we were still able to use the boat as a means to get to our next destination. So, in conclusion, #BigBusTours--sponsor me.

My luck with the beautiful weather did not last long, however. Our next stop was Dublin, Ireland, which was looking a little less "Emerald Isle" and a little more "Damp Forest Green Isle." That's not to say it wasn't beautiful, though. Even in the cold, harsh winds and infrequent rain, it wasn't hard to see the wonders both natural and cultural that Dublin had to offer. Moreover, it made it easier to imagine myself in one of the most iconic rom-coms of our time, Leap Year. If you know, you know.

The day with the worst weather was somehow the one we ended up spending entirely outdoors, in the countryside of Glendalough and the medieval town of Kilkenny--names that must be read aloud in a delightful Irish accent. Highlights include seeing elusive mini ponies, trying a traditional Irish bread that's literally called "blaa," and befriending our tour guide named--what else?--Patrick. If you ever find yourself in Dublin and don't have time to check out the famed Cliffs of Moher located on the opposite coast, the Irish countryside 2 hours away from the capital has plenty of scenic sights and history. And for another #plug, go for Collins Day Tours and tell Pat we say hello.

Of course, we couldn't go to Dublin without visiting its most popular tourist destination: the Guinness storehouse, or the true "pot of gold" that lies at the end of a leprechaun's rainbow. Now while this was definitely the fulfillment of one of my sister's longest-held dreams, I was rather excited to visit as well. Over the trip, and even back in England, I had slowly been attuning my palate to beer in preparation for this moment. After learning how to ~properly~ enjoy the taste of Guinness, I'm happy to report that I indeed downed my complimentary pint (and no, we don't need to touch upon the third-rate job I did of pouring it out). Aside from the necessary libations, the storehouse itself offered a thorough, fascinating history of the beer and its production process. One of my favorite displays was a moving sculpture of a fish "riding" a bicycle--an advertising stunt from Guinness, the tagline being "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle." Who knew a beer company would be a pioneer in 20th-century feminism?

After braving the windy rains of Dublin, it was back to dear old Oxford. My mind, body, and soul were thrown for a loop once again by the weather when we were greeted with the gentle sun and mild temperatures. I'll be honest, for the first few hours I eyed the skies distrustfully and kept one hand on my umbrella, in case the day should take a turn for the British. But no, it seemed that the lovely weather was here to stay, and I was unfortunately unable to prove to my sister how unpredictable Oxford weather can be.

Warmth. Contentment. That's how I can best describe my feelings as I was riding back into Oxford, and all the familiar sights were popping up before me: University Parks. High Street. The weird amount of Harry Potter-themed stores. It wasn't like Oxford was waiting for me to come back, because I could already tell in the late spring air that things were changing in the city. It was more like when I stepped off the bus, it saw me and went, Well, there you are. It's about time you came home.

At the same time, however, I got to re-experience seeing Oxford for the first time through my sister. From my dorm room, to George Street, to the Radcliffe Camera, I could share in the excitement and wonder that was not unlike my own when I arrived in January. I was a bit nervous about playing the role of tour guide for this leg of her visit, but it turned out that I knew more than I thought I did--and yes, Oxford has plenty to do for a three-day visit. We did things I had done before, like visiting a few of the university's many colleges, and even did things I hadn't gotten to do yet: climbing the University Church Tower, visiting a few of the stellar pubs, and dining at the Franco Manca (it was well worth the wait).

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And just like that, my sister departed from Gloucester Green in the wee hours of the morning--not that far off from the hour that I took the bus to Luton over a month ago, to begin this string of European exploits. Being around people virtually 24/7 for so long, I felt a sense of loneliness returning back to my room that day. I was now in a strange in-between, my travels at an end but my schooling yet to start. And that's where I still am now, day by day trying to remember what it's like to be a student and to carefully manage my time. It's been a week since I've been back, and I'm still trying to recall what I usually get from my weekly Tesco runs.

I'd like to end with a reference to The Sportswriter, a book I am currently reading for one of my upcoming tutorials. I know, I know--way to bring it full circle, Katherine. But in it I found a quote that I feel best describes my sentiments towards this past month and a half. As I enter Trinity Term here at Hertford and my fourth month being in Europe, I am starting to realize that much of what I see, hear, or feel may be the only time I am able to do so. There is a tremendous uncertainty in everything life offers, so the best we can do is not take anything for granted, from the most arduous struggle to the grandest of adventures.

"...for some reason I have a feeling I won't see her for a long time, that something is over and something begun, though I cannot tell you for the life of me what those somethings might be."