Helped a poor, bewildered girl from El Salvador use the Parisian metro for the first time. Sat at an airport charging station where none of the sockets or USB ports worked, crushing the hopes and dreams of innocent travelers wishing to charge their phones.
Finally met up with A, and managed to catch our flight even though the boarding gate was changed without warning. Arrived in Dublin two hours later, took a three-hour bus ride to Galway. Scenery consisted of fields of trees and grass, and occasional clusters of cows, horses, and sheep.
Found our hostel, learned that the horde of people in the city center were hoping to catch a glimpse of Ed Sheeran. Booked a tour to the Cliffs of Moher and other Galway highlights. Took a brief walk, stumbled upon an A+ example of LGBTQ representation (the ad still has quite a ways to go when it comes to objectifying and sexualizing women, but at least they put a same-sex couple in a window for all passersby to see.)
Too tired to write a proper post, much less complete sentences, though I can say that I’ve discovered a terrible habit of falling in love with towns and cities. It started with Nice, but now I’ve gone and cheated on my study abroad home, embarking on a never-ending polyamorous relationship.
A weak drizzle, cold wind, and persistent sun battled for dominance as A and I crossed the Corrib River to the Galway Cathedral. By the time we left the structure, our necks hurt from staring up at the soaring buttresses and the intricate stained-glass windows. The cathedral was also the site of friendly native encounter #1: an elderly man named John told A and I that we were both lovely young ladies, and wished us the best with teaching.
We then took a leisurely stroll along Eglinton Canal, drinking in the pretty, peaceful view.
Friendly native encounter #2: we stared in confusion at what appeared to be a ferret on a leash, and the woman walking her dog and ferret asked if we wanted to say hi. Well, I can officially cross petting a friendly ferret named Minalos off my bucket list.
FNE #3: while we were marveling at some street art, a man stopped to explain that the entire community had come together to honor his friend who’d committed suicide last year, and that it’s their way of raising awareness, which I found quite touching.
FNE #4: a man on a bike noticed us frowning at our map, and remarked, “That map is actually useless, I don’t know who came up with it. It’s some Lord of the Rings crap.” He then gave us proper directions and suggested we visit the City Museum since it’s free.
That sounded like good advice, so we headed for the Spanish Arch and City Museum, which was full of Galway history. After lunch, A decided to nap, so I spent nearly two hours exploring the city’s nooks and crannies, making pit stops at the Charles Byrne Bookstore (where I saw a copy of The Last September and experienced intense spring semester English flashbacks), Hall of the Red Earl, St.Nicholas Church, the Nora Barnacle house (where James Joyce’s wife lived), and a shopping mall.
We reconvened at an Oscar Wilde statue, admiring the dock before retracing our steps along the Eglinton Canal. To be honest, I’d 100% consider living here if it weren’t for my ongoing love affair with France. (Also, you have no idea how tempted I was to tell that café I was an unattended child. Sign me up for free kittens.)