Our Trip through Ireland

During February break, we decided to travel to Ireland for a week. Our plan was to take trains all throughout the Irish isle and explore the major towns, gaining a holistic view of Ireland and perhaps even crossing over to the land of the Scots. With only our backpacks, camera, and each other against the island, we certainly didn’t know what to expect but, luckily, Ireland had some awesome plans for us.

Zofia’s favorite memories: 

When we stepped into our first tourist trap store in Dublin, my eyelids weighing down like the large backpack on my back, I saw sheep memorabilia everywhere. Luckily, I didn’t attempt to count them because the jet lag would have definitely resulted in me falling asleep at 1pm. After the fatigue of the first day, I realized the sheep weren’t a result of my delirium: cute sheep were littered in stores everywhere. The sheep were my initial impression of Ireland in the best way possible. Staying in hostels every night and carrying all of our belongings in a backpack is a difficult experience to get used to; however, Ireland is the perfect location to do so because there were cute fluffy animals in stores and outside the windows of the long train rides. 

We started our journey in Dublin. One day, after visiting the Dublin castle and posting a photo of it on my Instragam, this guy I knew responded with “I’m like less than 20 minutes away from you rn.” In fact, he goes to Trinity Dublin, a school that we were headed to at that very moment! He had been my friend when I did a summer program a few years ago, but I sadly lost touch with him due to our distance. Thanks to our Ireland trip, I was able to meet with him once more and rekindle a friendship. Before Anna and I began to travel the world, I would have never imagined meeting up with these sorts of people; however, thrice now I met up with people whom I never thought I would encounter again in a foreign country. ‘Tis the joys of travelling!

Trinity College Dublin, photo provided by authors.

During our trip, the lovely Miss Carver coincidentally assigned us to read Translations by Brian Friel, so we decided to visit the county in which it was set: Donegal. When we arrived in Donegal, we were both shocked at how small it was! However, the size resulted in an extremely cozy atmosphere, one in which it was perfect to read. After lunch, we made our way to our “hotel,” expecting the usual isolation that hotels offer as opposed to hostels. However, when we arrived, we realized that the whole place was in fact the home of an old lady who rented out rooms and ran the whole place herself. She was lovely and would tell us stories of when she once visited California, excited that we came from that area. Before nightfall, I had decided that I wanted to read some of the play in the backyard, seeing as there were some steps up to an area on top of a hill. I asked the old lady if I could read up there, and she told me that it might be too cold. However, I insisted that I would wear my warmest coat and be fine. A few minutes after I made the trek up the hill, I saw her coming up after me, blanket in hand. Her hospitality alone warmed me up completely. 

Anna’s favorite memories:

On the fourth day of our Irish Odyssey, Zof and I woke up in Limerick, a small town in the west of Ireland renowned for the Limerick poem. Birds that I liked to call tuxedo birds were chirping outside the window as our “Bella Ciao” alarm clock woke us up and the six-am sun came pouring in through the cream-colored curtains of our quaint hotel. For two extremely jet-lagged and night-seeking teenagers, getting up was quite the feat. But we did it, for breakfast was included in our stay and we had ambitions to make it to the train station in Dennis by the hour. As we awaited our breakfast, the only two souls in the dining room, we wrote limericks inspired by our travels. I wrote about not having seen as much sheep as I’d been promised and about my encounter with a very kind, slightly aged Irish lady, who told me I was a good Irish citizen for picking up a stranger’s trash before realizing in shock that I was a tourist. I will forever treasure being taken for an Irish citizen, and a good one at that! I took it as a sign that I will continue my studies there very soon. Anyway, we ate our breakfast, which meant the usual Irish-but-for-vegetarians-so-it-will-just-be-bread-butter-and-jam-?-yes-please-you’re-very-welcome. Afterward, we realized we had very little time before our desired train left and were forced to speed walk, laden with the heaviness of our backpacks. Through the cobblestone streets and the beautiful morning that rose over Limerick’s many rivers, we walked so feverishly that we sweat, removing any jacket usually necessary for a winter morning in Ireland. Of course, we made it in the nick of time, exhausted but happy and read the whole way there, leaning our tired heads against the glass that showed us the many sheep we dreamt of. We spent that day with an Irish sheepdog in the countryside, visiting the Cliffs of Moher in the midst of a slight rainstorm, and ended it in Galway, where we begrudgingly shared a bed again in a hostel. It reminded me of my claustrophobic days in the womb with Zof. Oh how things stay the same.

Our Irish sheepdog friend in County Lisdoonvarna, photo provided by authors

Our hostel room in Galway, photo provided by authors.

Somewhere along the lines, we both convinced ourselves that it would be tolerable to take on the weight of more books in our backpacks though we already suffered from immense back pain and annoyingly full backpacks. As one does, I told lies to myself to rationalize the acquisition of a couple more books. Besides, it was the end of the trip, how bad would a couple days of hard, physical labor be in the grand scheme of my wonderful and bookish life be? As it turns out, pretty tough. I really couldn’t help myself though. The Irish literature was calling my name: “Áine…. Áine…. Áine….*” The pleas echoed in my ears as I innocently went about my day and when I finished my third book of the trip on one of dozens of scenic, quiet train rides. The trip was ideal for reading, and I saw no veritable point in denying myself the happiness of new books because, rationally, the books that I had already read didn’t really count– they took on a weightless form in my backpack. Every book I finished, I allowed myself two books to replace it. Eventually things spiraled out of control for the both of us, and we had to each buy a tote bag to carry our guilty pleasures. It was definitely worth it though because we got to discover the nooks and crannies of quaint Irish bookstores without fear of falling in love with a new book. One of my favorite bookstores of the whole trip, and believe me: there were many; was in Belfast. The store owner was infectiously passionate about books, about the world and curious about our bookish intrigues. I walked out of that store with a devious five new books in my possession, all safely put away in an Oscar Wilde tote bag. That afternoon, we visited many museums and read outside of them, sipping on Irish coffee, naturally. I was divided between two worlds: one of Belfast and its not-so-distant Troubles and the one Paul Lynch potrays in Prophet Song, a politically dystopian novel set in a future Dublin. Through our endless wandering and reading that day, I felt Ireland’s past and the resilience of its people during my short stay in Belfast, vowing to never to take my peace for granted again.

Prophet Song by Paul Lynch

*The Irish version of Anna.