Rocky Road to Galway

I made it! Not sure how long this post will be, but we'll see how long I can go before jetlag takes control. It's 4:40 at home and 9:40 in Galway, waking up early tomorrow morning for orientation. In typical-American fashion, my first meal in Ireland was Papa John's takeout, two roommates who have been here a few days had the number, and it just seemed much easier than trekking to the grocery store wherever it is while half-asleep. Everything is more expensive in euros, take note.

Airport check in was hectic and emotional, but finding my gate and getting to Dublin from there fairly simple. I sat next to a friendly woman returning from Christmas and New Years in New York, and she wished me the best as we left- hopefully some of that 'Irish luck' will hold strong throughout the new year. Flight went faster than scheduled because of a nice tailwind, and I was able to journal a bit, feeling the sort of "go-survival" mode that always kicks in when I need it most, no matter how nervous I am ahead of time. 

In my escapades in finding Bus Eireann and getting to my apartment, my friendly-Irish count increased to 4 of 5, everyone being very helpful except one annoyed woman at the info desk at the airport. But I overcame! Sat next to a chatty old lady on the last leg of the bus journey, who urged me to hold onto my belongings and beware pickpockets. It's interesting being in an English-speaking foreign country, because I mostly blend in until I start to talk and the accent gives me away, but deciphering the Irish-tinged language is trickier than I'd imagined; it feels like it blurs together (but then I always talk very fast so it's probably the same for them listening to me!) Once off the bus, I pulled out my little hand drawn diagram of the area that a friend who came last year drew for me (Thanks, Jocelyn!) and promptly walked the wrong direction. I eventually found an information center that steered me the right way and gave me a sprawling fold-out map; I must have followed their directions better, because even though none of the streets are visibly marked, I stumbled upon the trademark red-railing balconies outside my building (which has no number and was as hidden to the Papa Johns delivery guy as it was to me). Inside, my landlord was nowhere to be found, but after a couple minutes of anxious pacing outside the office, a woman who must be his VP came and found my key, I checked in by my writing my name in a little notebook next to "LA SALLE??" So all in all, I'd call it a success for my navigation skills. 

 

At this point I've still seen very little of the country, since I napped on the bus, but there will be plenty of time for that in the coming months, and I'll write about it here whenever I can. We're just getting started!