There are no days that I regret traveling alone. There are, however, some days I regret traveling with a crowd, and given the choice, I would rather be the lone traveler who sees the world uninterrupted by those who cannot decide which avenue to take. While I am not the most adventurous of the bunch, I enjoy taking time to take in everything, down to the minute details. I don’t need to go terribly far in a foreign land to find a new adventure of sorts.
The Bar/Pub Scene...
In America, I cannot simply meander into a pub or a bar as a single woman and do my homework over a scotch or lager without attracting the attention of individuals who presume that I was at such an establishment because I was somehow “loose.” Here, I can walk down the street to any pub (I have my favorites) and drink in peace without rude or presumptuous intrusions. I am learning about the different locations – Oxford being amongst the more permissive of the places where I am left alone or am free to strike up a conversation without innuendoes that I would very much prefer to avoid. Ireland was different though. I got hit on by so many drunk and sober men that I found myself wanting to return back to Oxford by the end of my one week there.
It would seem that some places are not ready for women going into bars or pubs alone, or women taking on the role of a lone traveler. Most of the men I encountered in Ireland (in pubs, cafes, and hostels) asked me how it was that I, as a “beautiful woman,” could travel alone … "didn’t men (like them) constantly and incessantly bother me?" I smiled and knew they were answering their own questions. By the end of my week in Ireland, I found myself staying in the hostel at nights, having purchased a couple of large cans of Guinness along with a sandwich or some strange concoction that many convenience stores sell for weary travelers like myself.
However, in Oxford, I find many who are like me who simply stop off at coffee shops or pubs and are left alone, save a friendly conversation here and there – always welcoming of my presence. Also, in London, I went to a pub/restaurant and the server there was more than cordial. We talked about where she was from, and she gave us helpful ideas of where to go while traveling there. They actually have a pub map that connects various unrelated pubs onto a “go five times/to five noted places and get the sixth one free” model which I found refreshing. Alas, I don’t seem to have the time or money to take them up on their offer, but if I did, I surely would do so!
The Friends Scene...
While I enjoy the one-on-one company of others, I enjoy just taking my time and not rushing off to the next new thing. I don’t think I’ve ever been in that much of a hurry. Instead, I enjoy just taking in everything – every innuendo of a place; I enjoy imagining myself as part of that place or establishment as if I lived there. The experience of knowing that I have a place to go home to – here – makes the experience more enhanced. That I can walk around and mosey through the various shops freely or visit an internet café at the hefty price of one pound makes me happy. That I can walk to anything that is integral to my life makes me feel incredibly privileged. Back home in Los Angeles, I have to drive everywhere, and that makes me incredibly unhappy.
It’s nice to mix and mingle with friends in this land abroad, but my greatest satisfaction is in the conversations, the background intonations of different languages and accents, the various cultures intermixed, the random conversations with local and foreign others, and the ambiance that Oxford and the greater U.K. provide that enhances the one-on-one interactions. Perhaps because I am older, I don’t have a sense of urgency in all things and places. My urgency rests in the here and now in whatever I am engaged in at the moment, whether it is a conversation with a friend, writing this piece, or studying for my classes in a pub. I don’t like the question, “So what do you want to do now?” It suggests an inability to be in the “here and now” and misses the point of being abroad for me. I suppose it could be argued either way that life is too short to not take in as much as possible – to (a) take in as many countries and pubs as possible, or to (b) take in as much of one thing as possible to incorporate one’s existence into its existence. For better or worse, I am the latter. Too often, I find that people are rushed and wanting too much of any given moment.
I have decided that my study abroad program is not a time to go everywhere all the time or to do every conceivable action until I drop dead with exhaustion at the end of it. For me, the best moments are about taking in a variety of sights and scenes, while at the same time, taking time to reflect on the highlights of each day. The little things are what stand out for me: cobblestone roads, color building-fronts, brick buildings, very small cars, the sound of the various languages, or watching other people watch me. If “Plan A” doesn’t pan out, then it’s not a loss because I am in a new place, surrounded by new and unfamiliar things – things I could only imagine before. So it’s always a win-win situation.
Monday, 27 April 2009
Relative Education
Studying abroad is the most eye-opening experience I have undertaken in my relatively long or short life, and it has changed me profoundly in every area of my life. Every day, I take in as much as I can with the persistent thought that time is constantly nipping at my heels, reminding me to observe, form solid memories, and to never take for granted the beauty and history of a kind I will not see in Los Angeles or any car-driven city wherein walking is not a luxury. Los Angeles is like “spilled milk” – it spans for miles and miles, which takes away from the community, the mass-transport system, and easy-access trains. I love walking up Headington Hill (as much as it pains me at times) to get to Oxford Brookes College. There is no question in my mind that my education here is more than the sum of my classes – it is a kind of global learning, not made of by books alone, by tests, or by papers, but through living.
There are times when I question the wisdom of allowing certain individuals into a program that demands flexibility and open-mindedness that doesn’t exist for a few. Most of the time, the case is that the authority figures are preaching to the proverbial choir, but some may have, under this metaphor, never been a part of something other than themselves and therefore have no sense or context to the “outside world out there.” It is, as many metaphors go – metaphors that are almost certainly known by all along the lines of, “One rotten apple spoils the barrel…” I don’t presume to know what goes through the minds of others because everyone has their own reason for being the way they are, but when the behaviors start encroaching on my education and learning process, I become upset, and I feel disrespected. At the same time, I refuse to let the actions of a few disrupt my process, despite my anger for inexcusably rude actions and words.
We are guests in a nation and privileged to be in a program that few are given the opportunity to live out. That we pay to be here is inconsequential – life is such that all things cost money and time. Further, respect has to be earned and learned, and until we act maturely, respect is a one-way street. Grown-ups get to be grown-ups because they’ve grown up. We’re treated like children when we behave like children. We teach people how to treat us. If we go out of our way to be foolish, we will treated likewise as fools, and talked to in like fashion. I have little to no sympathy for those who would take the whole lot down for their lack of sensitivity and maturity. However, I question the process that allows them into an intense program – those who are not ready to experience adulthood beyond hard-liquored nights and regular absences.
Studying abroad is not only about this wonderful cultural exchange that we receive into our life experiences, but it is, as the term suggests, “studying” abroad – an academic program. It requires actively participating in one’s education and attending school just like it is attended where we came from. Education is an often arduous process and our professors have been very patient with us because they understand that we are taking in many activities at once and are constantly adjusting to our brave new world. However, at the end of the day, we are students, and we are working towards new insights and ideas that our classes open out to us – all while being graded. It is true that we have paid good money to be here, but that money is not meant to bend the will of the people who we are guests to or under the tutelage of. There is a hierarchy that needs to be maintained and honored, and at least a modicum of order that demands to be sustained amidst moments of high drama and chaos.
There is an inevitability that certain dynamics will crop up in programs such as studying in a foreign country. I’m sure a lot of hard work goes into creating the program guidelines; the authors of these programs have no doubt worked tirelessly to be as thorough as possible. Quotas need to be filled, and care must be taken to not exclude those who might otherwise learn by studying abroad. Consideration must be made so that opportunity exists for everyone. My contention is that a good majority of students are present for their academic endeavors and are serious about studying; the disruptions created by those who are in these programs as an exercise of fun and folly are deeply felt by the majority, and are, at times, bitterly resented. Amongst ourselves, we talk about the selection process and question how seamlessly the “unready” become accepted into such a serious life-changing program. No one presumes to know, nor do they want to feel that they know “more than” anyone else. The frustration is a shared one, and we all try to incorporate our efforts in a way that is inclusive towards others, and we try to pull each other up. The majority study hard and do well, and it is not problem that a few do not care except that that very majority has to endure the effects of the messages not intended for them, but are instead for the ones who blatantly disregard and disrespect others. In solidarity and individually, we work for our grades and our progress, and we take our classes seriously. A test is a test, and a paper is a paper. A grade, likewise, is a grade. Relativity being almost everything in a classroom, unequal opportunities for those who would rather not care seems unfair. Nonetheless, life is not fair and here we have the classic “case and point.” However, education is relative to the person who is its recipient…
There are times when I question the wisdom of allowing certain individuals into a program that demands flexibility and open-mindedness that doesn’t exist for a few. Most of the time, the case is that the authority figures are preaching to the proverbial choir, but some may have, under this metaphor, never been a part of something other than themselves and therefore have no sense or context to the “outside world out there.” It is, as many metaphors go – metaphors that are almost certainly known by all along the lines of, “One rotten apple spoils the barrel…” I don’t presume to know what goes through the minds of others because everyone has their own reason for being the way they are, but when the behaviors start encroaching on my education and learning process, I become upset, and I feel disrespected. At the same time, I refuse to let the actions of a few disrupt my process, despite my anger for inexcusably rude actions and words.
We are guests in a nation and privileged to be in a program that few are given the opportunity to live out. That we pay to be here is inconsequential – life is such that all things cost money and time. Further, respect has to be earned and learned, and until we act maturely, respect is a one-way street. Grown-ups get to be grown-ups because they’ve grown up. We’re treated like children when we behave like children. We teach people how to treat us. If we go out of our way to be foolish, we will treated likewise as fools, and talked to in like fashion. I have little to no sympathy for those who would take the whole lot down for their lack of sensitivity and maturity. However, I question the process that allows them into an intense program – those who are not ready to experience adulthood beyond hard-liquored nights and regular absences.
Studying abroad is not only about this wonderful cultural exchange that we receive into our life experiences, but it is, as the term suggests, “studying” abroad – an academic program. It requires actively participating in one’s education and attending school just like it is attended where we came from. Education is an often arduous process and our professors have been very patient with us because they understand that we are taking in many activities at once and are constantly adjusting to our brave new world. However, at the end of the day, we are students, and we are working towards new insights and ideas that our classes open out to us – all while being graded. It is true that we have paid good money to be here, but that money is not meant to bend the will of the people who we are guests to or under the tutelage of. There is a hierarchy that needs to be maintained and honored, and at least a modicum of order that demands to be sustained amidst moments of high drama and chaos.
There is an inevitability that certain dynamics will crop up in programs such as studying in a foreign country. I’m sure a lot of hard work goes into creating the program guidelines; the authors of these programs have no doubt worked tirelessly to be as thorough as possible. Quotas need to be filled, and care must be taken to not exclude those who might otherwise learn by studying abroad. Consideration must be made so that opportunity exists for everyone. My contention is that a good majority of students are present for their academic endeavors and are serious about studying; the disruptions created by those who are in these programs as an exercise of fun and folly are deeply felt by the majority, and are, at times, bitterly resented. Amongst ourselves, we talk about the selection process and question how seamlessly the “unready” become accepted into such a serious life-changing program. No one presumes to know, nor do they want to feel that they know “more than” anyone else. The frustration is a shared one, and we all try to incorporate our efforts in a way that is inclusive towards others, and we try to pull each other up. The majority study hard and do well, and it is not problem that a few do not care except that that very majority has to endure the effects of the messages not intended for them, but are instead for the ones who blatantly disregard and disrespect others. In solidarity and individually, we work for our grades and our progress, and we take our classes seriously. A test is a test, and a paper is a paper. A grade, likewise, is a grade. Relativity being almost everything in a classroom, unequal opportunities for those who would rather not care seems unfair. Nonetheless, life is not fair and here we have the classic “case and point.” However, education is relative to the person who is its recipient…
Sunday, 19 April 2009
Conundrum of Spring Break
It almost seems perverse to contemplate studying whilst I am in Ireland over my spring break. Yet, I have brought at least one text book, a play, and a mystery novel with me and its presence intrudes upon my stay. The fact is, school is going to return with a fierce vengeance once we return to Oxford. I don’t want to study – it just seems so contrary to my being here. But I know that if I don’t do at least the minimum work, I will be unable to keep up with all the assignments and tests that are going to occur. So here I am, in Ireland, trying to find an excuse to study – somehow the words “hostel” and “school books” do not seem to belong in one sentence.
I have started each of the texts named above and finished one, but I haven’t dug my heels in with the kind of intent I need to in order to really absorb the work. I really would rather do absolutely nothing but sight see, spend lots of money that I don’t have, and party until all hours but the responsible side of me says that while that’s all and fine, I’ll pay dearly if I procrastinate. Oh how I envy the care-free! What makes one able to go to many countries, party regularly and still be able to show up to class and do reasonably well? Maybe its age; I’ve “been there and done that” so all the “busy-ness” doesn’t appeal to me as it once did. I like having a pint alone and maybe a couple of pints when I’m out with friends, but that’s my nature. It’s not a curse to be shy or introverted, but it’s also not an excuse for me to hide behind.
So, I’ll stay here at Ashfield Hostel and take in the daily tours, and when I return, I’ll crack open the books. If there’s time afterwards, I’ll compromise with myself and take in a pub and a pint. Still, it is awkward being amongst my books because I see scores of students here “out there” and not studying. I’m almost embarrassed by my drive to study and do well, but I said “almost.” When all is said and done, I’ve bent my own rules numerous times, and have come through relatively unscathed. I know my limits and understand that I’ve placed a premium on being a student above being in a foreign country or studying abroad. I am here for an academic program, and sometimes the lines between school and play can get very fuzzy in a foreign land. That is why I constantly pause and take in everything I can between the tests and papers. I am truly privileged to be here in Europe as a student, and as a traveler.
I have started each of the texts named above and finished one, but I haven’t dug my heels in with the kind of intent I need to in order to really absorb the work. I really would rather do absolutely nothing but sight see, spend lots of money that I don’t have, and party until all hours but the responsible side of me says that while that’s all and fine, I’ll pay dearly if I procrastinate. Oh how I envy the care-free! What makes one able to go to many countries, party regularly and still be able to show up to class and do reasonably well? Maybe its age; I’ve “been there and done that” so all the “busy-ness” doesn’t appeal to me as it once did. I like having a pint alone and maybe a couple of pints when I’m out with friends, but that’s my nature. It’s not a curse to be shy or introverted, but it’s also not an excuse for me to hide behind.
So, I’ll stay here at Ashfield Hostel and take in the daily tours, and when I return, I’ll crack open the books. If there’s time afterwards, I’ll compromise with myself and take in a pub and a pint. Still, it is awkward being amongst my books because I see scores of students here “out there” and not studying. I’m almost embarrassed by my drive to study and do well, but I said “almost.” When all is said and done, I’ve bent my own rules numerous times, and have come through relatively unscathed. I know my limits and understand that I’ve placed a premium on being a student above being in a foreign country or studying abroad. I am here for an academic program, and sometimes the lines between school and play can get very fuzzy in a foreign land. That is why I constantly pause and take in everything I can between the tests and papers. I am truly privileged to be here in Europe as a student, and as a traveler.
Greener than England?
I have always wanted to go to Ireland – my entire life. I’ve imagined this place, with all the grass, for all the photos I’ve collected of Ireland throughout my life. The history here is rich and different from England’s, although there are overlapping events and moments that bring the countries under one umbrella, probably to the chagrin of some of the Irish.
I had the pleasure of a very long and scenic bus ride yesterday, from Rosslare to Dublin. I’ve written about how green it is in Oxford, but dare I say – it is greener here and I’m not exactly syre how that is. Perhaps there are fewer buildings, and fewer cars. On my ride over, I saw patches of land, much like the fashionable sheepskin coats we see in winter. The lots are separated by neatly cut shrubbery which gives the appearance of pieces of land fitting perfectly together, as if by art. Within each of the patches of grass are five, ten, or fifteen or more mostly black-face white sheep in need of a spring sheering. Some of the sheep were actually numbered; I hope the numbering is not for slaughtering. There were many lambs nursing, and most of the lambs were, as the cliché, “white as fleece,” although some were grey, and fewer were black. Some of the fields contained hcows or horses or a combination of animals.
I noticed that the ravens perch themselves on the sheep – some of them pecking away at the long wooly hair, while the sheep go on about their business grazing or doing nothing. I also noticed that all the headstones we passed (up to the point of losing the sunlight at least) faced one direction very uniformly. I wrote my Irish friend a postcard and asked him about these curiosities.
Once in the miscellaneous cities along the way to Dublin, we wound around in narrow roads and round-abouts that seemed impossible for the large bus were in to navigate around, but our bus driver was quite adept at maneuvering in tight 360 degree circles. Some of the roads almost seemed to bend at a complete 180 degrees backwards. A bus driver I will never be… The cars here are small, like in the U.K., which is good. Each area had its own personality, and I made mental notes with respect to places to visit.
To top things off, people are generally friendly here. When I boarded the bus from Rosslare to Dublin, a doctor started a conversation with me. He was very sociable and we talked for about 30 minutes until he got off at Wexford. He is from Fishguard, which is where my ferry departed from. When I arrived at Ashfield Hostel, I was greeted warmly as well, and my nervousness was put to rest. Despite my tardiness and special request for a single room, everyone accommodated the weary traveler that was me yesterday, in every way.
I walked around this afternoon and found my way to Dublin Castle where I had a cappuccino and an over-sized but delicious scone. I especially enjoy the out-door enclaves that some cafés have. I took time to take in the “feeling” of this café and to write some postcards. As I walked back from Dublin Castle, I back-tracked a narrow cobblestone avenue of bright storefronts to buy some batteries for my camera.
Once outside, I decided to sit down on some steps (alongside scores of people) to listen to the Irish music playing in a pub, to take in some sun, and to rest my legs. I heard a “Hello there,” and turned to find a man addressing me, and then striking up a conversation as casually as if we had spoken previously. He told (or asked) me, “You must have no trouble finding men-folk and all in America, eh?” I decided to leave it at that, rather than to say, “Au contraire…” So a beautiful place and flattery… I couldn’t ask for more! I can hear my family telling me, “Be careful – you’re a tourist and there are a lot of scams out there…” I was nevertheless amused.
As this is only my first real day here, I’m certain that there will be much more to write. For example, a river runs through Dublin and it is a sight to behold! Beautiful bridges tie the two sides of the river together neatly, and there are footpaths tiered beneath the street level along the river. Along these lower tiers, there are cafés and people taking photographs or walking (like me). On the street level, there are more pubs than I can count, and exiting the streets are smaller cobblestone deviations that lead to other layers of shops and restaurants hidden in plain sight almost. I took a lot of photos and will post them online when I get a computer that works.
I had the pleasure of a very long and scenic bus ride yesterday, from Rosslare to Dublin. I’ve written about how green it is in Oxford, but dare I say – it is greener here and I’m not exactly syre how that is. Perhaps there are fewer buildings, and fewer cars. On my ride over, I saw patches of land, much like the fashionable sheepskin coats we see in winter. The lots are separated by neatly cut shrubbery which gives the appearance of pieces of land fitting perfectly together, as if by art. Within each of the patches of grass are five, ten, or fifteen or more mostly black-face white sheep in need of a spring sheering. Some of the sheep were actually numbered; I hope the numbering is not for slaughtering. There were many lambs nursing, and most of the lambs were, as the cliché, “white as fleece,” although some were grey, and fewer were black. Some of the fields contained hcows or horses or a combination of animals.
I noticed that the ravens perch themselves on the sheep – some of them pecking away at the long wooly hair, while the sheep go on about their business grazing or doing nothing. I also noticed that all the headstones we passed (up to the point of losing the sunlight at least) faced one direction very uniformly. I wrote my Irish friend a postcard and asked him about these curiosities.
Once in the miscellaneous cities along the way to Dublin, we wound around in narrow roads and round-abouts that seemed impossible for the large bus were in to navigate around, but our bus driver was quite adept at maneuvering in tight 360 degree circles. Some of the roads almost seemed to bend at a complete 180 degrees backwards. A bus driver I will never be… The cars here are small, like in the U.K., which is good. Each area had its own personality, and I made mental notes with respect to places to visit.
To top things off, people are generally friendly here. When I boarded the bus from Rosslare to Dublin, a doctor started a conversation with me. He was very sociable and we talked for about 30 minutes until he got off at Wexford. He is from Fishguard, which is where my ferry departed from. When I arrived at Ashfield Hostel, I was greeted warmly as well, and my nervousness was put to rest. Despite my tardiness and special request for a single room, everyone accommodated the weary traveler that was me yesterday, in every way.
I walked around this afternoon and found my way to Dublin Castle where I had a cappuccino and an over-sized but delicious scone. I especially enjoy the out-door enclaves that some cafés have. I took time to take in the “feeling” of this café and to write some postcards. As I walked back from Dublin Castle, I back-tracked a narrow cobblestone avenue of bright storefronts to buy some batteries for my camera.
Once outside, I decided to sit down on some steps (alongside scores of people) to listen to the Irish music playing in a pub, to take in some sun, and to rest my legs. I heard a “Hello there,” and turned to find a man addressing me, and then striking up a conversation as casually as if we had spoken previously. He told (or asked) me, “You must have no trouble finding men-folk and all in America, eh?” I decided to leave it at that, rather than to say, “Au contraire…” So a beautiful place and flattery… I couldn’t ask for more! I can hear my family telling me, “Be careful – you’re a tourist and there are a lot of scams out there…” I was nevertheless amused.
As this is only my first real day here, I’m certain that there will be much more to write. For example, a river runs through Dublin and it is a sight to behold! Beautiful bridges tie the two sides of the river together neatly, and there are footpaths tiered beneath the street level along the river. Along these lower tiers, there are cafés and people taking photographs or walking (like me). On the street level, there are more pubs than I can count, and exiting the streets are smaller cobblestone deviations that lead to other layers of shops and restaurants hidden in plain sight almost. I took a lot of photos and will post them online when I get a computer that works.
On Hostels: Experiences in Dublin
There are many pains I could have avoided if I weren’t a first-time traveler and hostel-user. Maybe my experience can shed light to future hostel users. First, I would never have brought this laptop for all its heaviness. Second, ditch most of the school books, save one maybe. Third, some hostels, if not most, have hair dryers and what-not so that you don’t have to haul cumbersome hair dryers. Fourth, do not, under any circumstances, over-pack. For one week, I’d say two pairs of pants and maybe four shirts recycled is more than enough. Don’t get clever with accessories. One pair of good walking shoes is plenty. It’s about being a tourist, not something out of a fashion magazine. Keep it simple. On the “to bring” column, I’d say that extra rechargeable batteries, as well as the charger is necessary. Don’t forget to bring the correct wall-socket adapter; it’s different in each country so the multiple socket changers is probably the best for the brave European/”other” travelers.
For one or two Euros per use, you can get a hair dryer at the hostel. For a one-time small fee, you can store the very expensive items such as laptops and cameras if you’re planning to go out or have various room-mates and don’t want to risk leaving behind valuables. They serve breakfast as part of the fee, which, all in all is pretty filling and plentiful. The hostel I’m staying at, Ashfield Hostel has two computers and it cost 2 Euros for 45 minutes (continuous) and 1 Euro for 15 minutes. They do not, however, supply toothbrushes – the one item I forgot to pack! Small purchase. I wish I would have gotten some more Euros though, but this is an example of “live and learn…” It happens that a couple of buildings down, there is a market that has an ATM machine, and hopefully, I’ll get some money out of it…
I got in late last night and was very exhausted. I’d never been to a hostel before. I wanted a single room because of my problems with sleeping. Insomnia is an expensive disorder to have… They obliged me, but I had to sleep in a bunk bed, which wasn’t bad at all. Once I got signed in and everything, they gave me a set of sheets and a pillow case, as well as two towels. So nix bringing towels as well. At Ashfield Hostel, there is a private bathroom for each room, which includes a lovely shower – sight for sore eyes, back, and feet! But do bring shower slippers if you’re the type who worries about germs and all. After I made my bed, I fell asleep very quickly. I am glad that I brought earplugs because, as I said, I’m a very light sleeper who pays a price if I don’t get my sleep. It got a little noisy around 2:00 a.m. – probably after people came back from a night’s partying.
When I got up this morning, I went downstairs and found breakfast, and more importantly, one of two forms of caffeine, of which, the coffee was not good, but the tea was. Still, I think later, I’ll try to find a coffee shop and get some real caffeine. I got on the internet, answered a few emails, and sent a few reassurances that I got here all right. I looked over the Dublin map and calculated what I might be interested in doing. Today, I’m mostly going to walk up and down different streets and mosey about lazily. I’m still a little tired from yesterday’s long odyssey. I think I can get to some of the more ancient sites within the city itself, and then I’ll plan to visit Ireland’s “highlands” and this week, I’ll also book a couple of tours. There is a hop-on-hop-off bus that I’ll probably take when I get my bearings. It seems fairly simple and the cost is about 15 Euros. Just hang on to the bus stub. I’ve also learned that there is a nice tram in the city, but I haven’t learned where I can get it.
One week later…
Now, the down side after almost a week… I didn’t know that there was an online site to book my stay here – if I would’ve known, I could have avoided paying so much. But I didn’t; there was no website for this place on the handout I received, so I booked the old fashioned way: by telephone. Further, I had to play musical rooms because of my shortsighted and forced planning. It’s stressful having to move luggage and belongings from the room to the storage area, then leave, and then come back to do the same thing over each day. Today will be the first day that I won’t have to do that, in that I have already paid for two days for a private room. Tomorrow will be my day, which is a kind of day I feel I really need – “down time” which introverts like me occasionally have to undertake. Too much hustle and bustle without a break or a time of introspection, contemplation, and writing, and I become overwhelmed by the constant input of information.
My lack of full internet access is frustrating because I can’t get onto my sites to post things or communicate with my friends, so I feel quite isolated in all of this. I don’t have a usable phone here, and that further increases my sense of disconnect. My wi-fi isn’t really set up to receive the signals properly, and I haven’t been able to find any internet cafes when I need them. But that’s not anyone’s problem but my own.
I do think that with the haphazard planning I undertook, in hindsight, I could have booked a cheap hotel or a bed and breakfast for about the same amount of money. It’s a matter of living and learning, I suppose. I do like the sense of community that hostels have – having breakfast has a new meaning for me, and I am starting to like the idea of it, as long as it’s a shared event. I do miss the full night’s sleep that has been quite elusive during the past week as a whole though. It’s fairly noisy here because it turns out that Ashfield is located next to a nightclub and there is a lot of traffic immediately outside. That is my problem though, because I am a chronic insomniac. This is the great frustration and challenge of my life: sleeping, and once asleep, staying that way.
I’ve really enjoyed talking to the staff here – especially Connor, the person who greeted me when I arrived, the young lady I shared my Oscar Wilde book with, and the gentleman who booked my tours. I’ve had many good conversations on a level I could appreciate, and learned a lot about the attitudes and ideas that people have here. This would not have been achieved at a tourist-attraction restaurant or pub that is too forced. That, however, is for another entry. People don’t need to aim to please – just being real is all that I ever ask for.
I would not take any of this back for this one element: the people at Ashfield. Everyone has been more than kind, and I have asked for a lot with my “private room” requests. They’ve worked to get me places, and explained time and again how to get somewhere. They are the concierges, receptionists, tourist bureau, keepers, and cashiers – all wrapped into two people “manning” the desk. I wish we had such a system in the United States! If we could come up with one, we could offer people various ways to get around at low prices, while keeping it clean and open. I’m not sure the U.S. is ready to share their space though… Prove me wrong, people!
For one or two Euros per use, you can get a hair dryer at the hostel. For a one-time small fee, you can store the very expensive items such as laptops and cameras if you’re planning to go out or have various room-mates and don’t want to risk leaving behind valuables. They serve breakfast as part of the fee, which, all in all is pretty filling and plentiful. The hostel I’m staying at, Ashfield Hostel has two computers and it cost 2 Euros for 45 minutes (continuous) and 1 Euro for 15 minutes. They do not, however, supply toothbrushes – the one item I forgot to pack! Small purchase. I wish I would have gotten some more Euros though, but this is an example of “live and learn…” It happens that a couple of buildings down, there is a market that has an ATM machine, and hopefully, I’ll get some money out of it…
I got in late last night and was very exhausted. I’d never been to a hostel before. I wanted a single room because of my problems with sleeping. Insomnia is an expensive disorder to have… They obliged me, but I had to sleep in a bunk bed, which wasn’t bad at all. Once I got signed in and everything, they gave me a set of sheets and a pillow case, as well as two towels. So nix bringing towels as well. At Ashfield Hostel, there is a private bathroom for each room, which includes a lovely shower – sight for sore eyes, back, and feet! But do bring shower slippers if you’re the type who worries about germs and all. After I made my bed, I fell asleep very quickly. I am glad that I brought earplugs because, as I said, I’m a very light sleeper who pays a price if I don’t get my sleep. It got a little noisy around 2:00 a.m. – probably after people came back from a night’s partying.
When I got up this morning, I went downstairs and found breakfast, and more importantly, one of two forms of caffeine, of which, the coffee was not good, but the tea was. Still, I think later, I’ll try to find a coffee shop and get some real caffeine. I got on the internet, answered a few emails, and sent a few reassurances that I got here all right. I looked over the Dublin map and calculated what I might be interested in doing. Today, I’m mostly going to walk up and down different streets and mosey about lazily. I’m still a little tired from yesterday’s long odyssey. I think I can get to some of the more ancient sites within the city itself, and then I’ll plan to visit Ireland’s “highlands” and this week, I’ll also book a couple of tours. There is a hop-on-hop-off bus that I’ll probably take when I get my bearings. It seems fairly simple and the cost is about 15 Euros. Just hang on to the bus stub. I’ve also learned that there is a nice tram in the city, but I haven’t learned where I can get it.
One week later…
Now, the down side after almost a week… I didn’t know that there was an online site to book my stay here – if I would’ve known, I could have avoided paying so much. But I didn’t; there was no website for this place on the handout I received, so I booked the old fashioned way: by telephone. Further, I had to play musical rooms because of my shortsighted and forced planning. It’s stressful having to move luggage and belongings from the room to the storage area, then leave, and then come back to do the same thing over each day. Today will be the first day that I won’t have to do that, in that I have already paid for two days for a private room. Tomorrow will be my day, which is a kind of day I feel I really need – “down time” which introverts like me occasionally have to undertake. Too much hustle and bustle without a break or a time of introspection, contemplation, and writing, and I become overwhelmed by the constant input of information.
My lack of full internet access is frustrating because I can’t get onto my sites to post things or communicate with my friends, so I feel quite isolated in all of this. I don’t have a usable phone here, and that further increases my sense of disconnect. My wi-fi isn’t really set up to receive the signals properly, and I haven’t been able to find any internet cafes when I need them. But that’s not anyone’s problem but my own.
I do think that with the haphazard planning I undertook, in hindsight, I could have booked a cheap hotel or a bed and breakfast for about the same amount of money. It’s a matter of living and learning, I suppose. I do like the sense of community that hostels have – having breakfast has a new meaning for me, and I am starting to like the idea of it, as long as it’s a shared event. I do miss the full night’s sleep that has been quite elusive during the past week as a whole though. It’s fairly noisy here because it turns out that Ashfield is located next to a nightclub and there is a lot of traffic immediately outside. That is my problem though, because I am a chronic insomniac. This is the great frustration and challenge of my life: sleeping, and once asleep, staying that way.
I’ve really enjoyed talking to the staff here – especially Connor, the person who greeted me when I arrived, the young lady I shared my Oscar Wilde book with, and the gentleman who booked my tours. I’ve had many good conversations on a level I could appreciate, and learned a lot about the attitudes and ideas that people have here. This would not have been achieved at a tourist-attraction restaurant or pub that is too forced. That, however, is for another entry. People don’t need to aim to please – just being real is all that I ever ask for.
I would not take any of this back for this one element: the people at Ashfield. Everyone has been more than kind, and I have asked for a lot with my “private room” requests. They’ve worked to get me places, and explained time and again how to get somewhere. They are the concierges, receptionists, tourist bureau, keepers, and cashiers – all wrapped into two people “manning” the desk. I wish we had such a system in the United States! If we could come up with one, we could offer people various ways to get around at low prices, while keeping it clean and open. I’m not sure the U.S. is ready to share their space though… Prove me wrong, people!
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