The Not So Graceful Arrival Into Guatemala City

I felt a lump forming in my throat and tears threatening to run from my eyes as I put my books and iPad into my backpack on the side of the highway. Because I didn't have the gumption (or the Spanish skills) to ask the driver if it would be possible to drop me off close to Zona 1 where my hostel was located I just waited patiently for the stop in Guatemala City. 

We just seemed to keep getting further from the centre, and I was starting to become more angry with myself for not having put more effort into my Spanish. The driver had this entire conversation with another passenger so I thought maybe he had made special arrangements to drop him off when we pulled over in a weird place. I did however ask the driver if that was the only stop in the city and he said no. He must have not had a clue what I was on about...

Because there I was on the wrong side of the highway twenty some-odd kilometres from the city centre. Thankfully I had Tompers with me so I wasn't completely alone in the dark......

As I saw it there was only one thing to do, start walking. So that is what I did. The sun had only just set so it wasn't quite completely dark yet, but I knew I wouldn't have a lot of time and I had a lot of ground to cover. I could also hear my best friend's voice in my head telling me how dangerous Guatemala City is, and I was going to be robbed, kidnapped, raped or worse..... murdered. Causing the tears to threaten once again. I finally came to a pedestrian overpass, this was the last time I let myself feel sorry for myself. There was nothing more I could do now than just keep walking, keep my wits about me, and keep an eye out for a chicken bus or collectivo heading into the city. With new resolve I pulled up my panties and quickened my pace, after all I intentionally travel with my 40L backpack for exactly this purpose.

Up ahead on the corner I saw a taxi letting some people out! I caught up to him and asked him "Cuánto cuesta.... por .... zona uno?" ... he just laughed to himself, shook his head and said "mucho gusto" then drove off. I took this to mean there was no way he was driving into the city. The next taxi told me 80Q which when the bus ticket there was only 100Q I just could not rationalize paying that for a taxi. I decided I shall keep walking until the price goes down, or I get scared.

After walking for over a half hour I decided it was time to get serious about catching a chicken bus or collectivo. I had seen the slums we drove through and I did not like the idea of walking through them one bit. At this point it is proper dark out and my shadow in the street lights has made me nervous more than once.

Suddenly the traffic had slowed to a crawl and I walked past a chicken bus and I thought fuck it I could just ask if they are going into the city. At this point believe it or not I was still not passed the exit to bypass the city all together.  So I turned around and asked and they said no. At this point the window of the new pickup truck just in front of me rolls down and in perfect English I hear...

"Do you need a ride"

The Struggle

I'm actually sitting in the rain in a hostel in the middle of the mountain is Guatemala as I write this. They have no wifi so what else is a girl to do? I'm definitely struggling with writing. 

There was something so liberating about parting ways with my travel friends. Don't get me wrong I love them and enjoyed travelling with them, I was just ready to be on my own again. There is something so freeing about not having to worry about anyone other than Tompers. He's pretty low maintenance like. They were probably so happy to go on their own way and not have to deal with my insane diet.

Since I left Canada I have been glutined at least a half dozen times, I'm so terrified of eating in restaurants now. It is literally THE most frustrating thing on earth. I can not tell you how many times I've wanted to just enjoy a cold beer especially as we were spending our time on the beaches. 

I should mention I'm also sitting here tonight quite hungry because I haven't eaten much today and I am terrified to order anything and there are no stores to walk to.. looks like protein powder for dinner for this girl again. I have to admit I have started to get used to feeling hungry all the time.

She Thinks Belize is a Third World Country

I've gotst all the monies in the worlds... She says as she asks me if I think they will give us more wine.  That is the question... 

I love that this turn of events has us sitting with an empty seat between us at the back of the plane. The flight attendant asked us if we had been cut off and that was why we were asking her, we haven't been and turns out we can have more wine. Happy Days! 

A hilarious revelation also came to light, my dear paranoid friend informed me that she already has her money belt on. She is so paranoid someone is going to rob her she brought a decoy bank card. *insert hysterical laughing face here* She says and I quote "I'm prepared for my robbery" I should also mention that she already explained to me her action plan to save her swim suits in the event of a robbery...

This is what I'm dealing with. She's trying to shove glutinous crackers in my face.. And apparently we are headed to a third world country... Jaysus, Mary & Joseph.... 

Day two is off without a hitch... 

"As soon as we start going down they are going to cut you off from that thing anyways"

Snowflakes & Delayed Flights

After a stressful day of finishing up all the bits, I found myself sitting at the airport drinking wine with my dear friend waiting for our flight to depart. After a series of events, she ended up on the same flight with me after all. So here we are bound for Calgary through a snowstorm. 

Turns out going through airport security with climbing chalk and protein powder wasn't nearly as bad as bringing the nail clippers, sunscreen, and razor cartridges. Two out of three made it through and it's not like I really wear sunscreen anyway.

Leaving home is alway tough. I'm always worried while I'm gone me ma might finally decide to kill my pup pup. So I always say goodbye to him with a lump in my throat and tears threatening to run from my eyes. It is even more soul crushing now because he can't hear me tell him how much I love him.

This trip is a new sort of anomaly for me. I have virtually no plans and really don't even know what I want to do while I'm travelling. I can sort of see the end goal as getting to Europe for at least a few weeks before returning to Canada but everything is very much up in the air.

The pack pack I swore I would not take on another trip is packed full yet again. This time with my day pack inside it, weighing a total of 27 pounds. I'm trying to blame the protein powder but who really knows at this point. I thought I had streamlined my packing down to such an art, when I found myself still trying to cram the last bits into my pack I was frustrated and annoyed with myself. The dreams of travelling in twenty litres seem so far off. 

I'm most indifferent to this adventure because all I can think about is climbing rocks. All I want to do is be better, and become stronger. Yet here I am flying off to a land that has very little information about climbing listed online. And my Spanish is still shockingly bad.

I guess this means it is time to be on. In a constant state of putting myself out there and reaching out to make new friends. This should be an interesting shift in my travel life. I'm definitely ready for a clean break. 

Here is to dawn patrol and morning runs, early nights and tropical rainstorms... 

Day one, one hundred and eighty some odd days to go.

Life is grand

Nine Days, Five Hours & Fifty-Six Minutes

Here we go again... It seems like round three but really it's round four. This time last year I was in Burgundy, the year before that Dublin, and before that Beunos Aires. This summer flew by, it seems like I just got home and suddenly all the things I had told myself I was going to get done before leaving again I hadn't even started.
I spent last weekend sorting through all my memories, and literally throwing 90% of them out in a ruthless downsizing. Me ma was concerned about the amount of stuff I had in storage if for any reason she would end up having to move it. Clearly she doesn't think I am going to come back from one of these adventures.
The summer home may have flown by without so much as a word typed, however the paper journal saw some action and some personal revelations.

I have had very little will to do any sort of planning for this trip, because honestly I really don't know how long I am going to stay in Central America before I fly over the ocean. But that should make for a much more interesting read...

182 days abroad with zero planning... 40 litres... and Tompers....
Sounds like an excellent adventure!

My mother used to whistle...

I almost find it amusing how this trip has shifted my life. It is almost like it took being away from home for 500+ days to realize that I’m just not cut out for it. However, as I now feel my heart pulling towards a home, I also stand here lost in Europe. There is a part of my soul that will never leave these ancient cities. How when you grew up in a country that is younger than the flat you lived in, in Ireland, one could think their home has the answers. But what does your home know? It’s just a babe.

As it turns out, Europe helps to provide many questions. It also made me realized that although I am Canadian, and yes again Canadian, and a bit offended you’re still asking,…, Canadian. I am at the end of it, all so enamoured with Europe.  It seems my soul beats to the same drum as Europe, Andalusia to be specific. A region unparalleled in my exploration.

I have learned in my European adventure that as it would so happen, I come from a country that has never fought a single war on our soil. I don’t know who you are, or where you’re from, but that is saying a lot. It also changes the shape of who I am as a person. I have never lived in fear. I have never felt my freedom restricted.

I was blessed enough to grow up in an era where my mother would literally whistle to call us (my sister & I) in for dinner. The rules were, we could be anywhere in the neighbourhood provided we could hear her whistle. And to this day I still know exactly what my mother’s whistle sounds like, out of love, not fear.

Travelling Europe has broken my heart so many times. I find myself feeling guilty for the “luxury” I was born into. There is also a small part of me that feels angry that people judge me for my “privileged” life.

It is not my fault I was born in a different country.

I am forever pulled back to the motherland. How can I be over here in Europe professing to be such a proud Canadian? Should I not be in the country I think is so amazing?

Even more so, should I not thank my ancestors for whatever struggles they no doubt endured to allow me to be born in Canada? There was no magic fairy that just made it so. I reckon my ancestors fought survival battles of their own for me to be so blessed with this life. And I owe them.

I reckon I owe them enough to know they fought, struggled, nearly starved, half froze to death to provide me with everything they wanted for their children. So as I return to Canada, I do so with the realization that I have people to thank for the amazing life, I was fortunate enough to grow up in.

It took 500+ days,

Thank you,

Forever and always

Walls, Jones, Russman, Kennedy

Corruption and Me Just Over Here Missing My Mommy

Romania… where do I start?

I asked someone in a hostel, “What is Romania known for?” I had just arrived and therefore I always find myself yearning to know more about the country I have suddenly found myself in.

His answer:

“Corruption”

I had merely asked in regards to things like food, and alcohol. So that answer actually shocked me. I went to the trouble, at that point, to learn something… and more importantly some interesting facts about Romania…

Here are the ones that really surprised me:

- According to someone on Tinder 48% of Romanians speak english. I thought this was amazing so naturally I didn't believe him. I had to google it... It's actually more like 75% of the entire country speaks English. Mind blown... English is in fact (according to google) the best known language in Romania! (don't be stupid, obviously outside of the language they speak which is ROMANIAN)

- Romania joined the Second World War on the side of the Nazis!!!! This resulted in 400,000 Romanian Jews and 36,000 Roma sent to their deaths in concentration camps. It took until 1944, and all those deaths for them to switch sides.

- In 1947 the Soviet-dominated Romanian Peoples Republic was proclaimed.

- In 1948 the residents of Bran Castle (Princess Ileana, her mother had restored the castle and bequeathed it to her favorite (allegedly) daughter in her will) were forcibly removed by communists. I highly recommend a little read on the Princess and her family as it is actually quite the story.

- The "House of the People" is the most disgraceful waste of money in a country that is (according to google) the poorest in the EU. However, the man and his entire family were executed on CHRISTMAS! By a firing squad!! And this is like 1989, which for an innocent little Canadian like me I find shocking

- A Romanian gymnast was the first to obtain a perfect score at the Olympics... In Montreal, and us silly Canadians didn't program the judge's computers to display a perfect score so there was some confusion... (Probably in French) It's funny how things like this don't really matter until you find yourself in their country.

- A lawyer named Popovici was the Romanian "Schindler" and actually saved more lives. Technicalities people! No one made a movie about this guy, just saying. 

- Romanians have "groundbear day" (Candlemas) instead of the "American" groundhog day.

- Some countries smuggle hard drugs. Romanians smuggle cigarettes.

I have a hard time admitting that I just didn’t find the beat of Romania. I didn’t fall in love with the country at all. Part of it could very well be I just wasn’t a fan of the food. I found myself searching for the vibe, for the reason to stick around. It just wasn’t something I could find.  I honestly felt like the eight days I spent there may have been too many. That or maybe not enough. I wonder if a big part of it is just that I’m ready to go home.

I really miss Canada. Snow falling in Sibiu reminded me I am so in love with the country I come from because you know what… it truly is an amazing place to be from. And maybe, just maybe I miss my mommy.

The Budget Struggle is Real

Moving cities every few days has made it so hard to convince myself that it is worth the trouble of unpacking my bag to dig out my laptop and actually accomplish some writing. So yes I have been wearing pretty much the same outfit since I left Ireland, with the exception of today, I’m wearing shorts! And thank god for that because I brought four pairs with me from Canada, and yep haven’t worn em. I could have had I packed them for my trip to the Netherlands but silly me didn’t.  

I have logged a decent amount of miles in my running gear too, and it really is time to properly wash my clothes, they are starting to smell. I’m holding out till I get to Romania though because it is literally a tenth of the cost there. Before you go and get sick, I have been hand washing my clothes, well my socks and underwear. I do this in the shower, a trick Fletcher taught me in Montreal many years ago. Funny because we had a washing machine at that flat. My jeans are halfway between life and death so I might just replace them instead of washing them. Also when I left Ireland I packed all my work socks which I literally threw out after wearing which was convenient. My shoes have caught the stink and I would love to throw them out and I will, just not yet. In fact everything I own is pretty much ready for the bin with the exception of those very expensive running socks I bought 6 years ago, they are still in perfect condition. Not as white as I’d like but that can easily be fixed when I’m back in the motherland. Enough about my laundry, Tompers is literally refusing to go anywhere near NefFie. (we have named the 40L NorthFace backpack, fitting really because she will be up for adoption after this trip) That’s probably a sign.

I cannot believe I am nearing the half way point of my trip. I also cannot believe I’m still hauling so much crap around with me. I’m frustrated with myself that NefFie is so full and I have packpack attached to my waist strap, granted he is usually full of food… What can I say, I’m on a budget.

Speaking of…

My poor budget hasn’t really stood much of a chance. It looks a bit hilarious because there are days were I did so well, but more often than not I was over my budget. It’s hard to really tell because I was putting in the costs for hotels etc that were booked for the future on the day I paid for them so it won’t really be a true representation of how I did on a day to day basis. And, until it is all said and done. However, according to my app I’m running at about €10 over budget per day… I did set my budget aggressively low, I guess to attempt to guilt me into staying on track… Travelling Europe at forty quid a day should not be easy. I’m actually questioning if it is even possible. I’m becoming my mother. Mom I mean this in the nicest way possible but come on we all know you are “frugal” as you like to say… *cough* cheap *cough*

Me the girl famous for her fancy Starbucks drinks actually says no to buying coffee, (in freaking Italy!!!!!!!!) unless there is a benefit for me. Like in Siena I wanted wifi and I had almost two hours to kill so I bought a coffee for €1.50 in exchange for the wifi password. I could have been truly cheap and just asked for it but I don’t want to be that person *cough* mom *cough*


One of the few things that I do to stay on budget is walk everywhere. Public transit is cheap but it adds up fast. Two feet and a heartbeat are free, plus I’m kicking ass on my fitbit challenges. (suckers)

That being said, I want to defend my budgeting skills… I have had a few unexpected setbacks. Having to pay €14 for the locker storage at the bus station in Granada instead of €7 because the coins didn’t work to get my stuff out and they guy refused to believe that I had already put the coins in/listen to my English or let me try to explain in my absolutely crap Spanish. I had to catch my bus, I didn’t have time to find a translator. I also paid €3.50 for a locker in Malaga because I forgot my container with my lunch in it in the fridge at my hostel and didn’t want to haul my bags all the way back there to get it, I rationalized this with the fact that it would have cost me more than that to buy lunch and having a container is extremely handy. I also got caught in Rome with unexpected really high city tax that was not included in the booking cost of the room. In fact all of my hostels in Italy charged an additional “city tax”.

Today I spent €13 on a salad and a couple bananas at an extremely overpriced market, of course I did not know how overpriced it was because there was no prices on the shelves I just assumed it would be similar to everywhere else, silly me. Trying not to cry about it.

I guess the thing is, nothing is free anymore. You want to go inside any building you have to pay, and if you don’t have to pay every other tourist has the same idea so the cue is ridiculous. (This is the off-season too) The only thing I haven’t had to pay for yet is to use the bathroom. Mainly because I’m dehydrated. I do find myself sometimes struggling with when I should let the budget go and pay for things that might be once in a lifetime experiences, then I think I’d prefer to have a few drinks with a stranger, over seeing the inside of yet another museum/church.

I do find myself comparing every new city to the other cities I have been, I was floored at how dirty and gross Bordeaux was. Especially after how clean Spain was. I guess I was expecting Spain to be filthy, I was stunned at how unsoiled it is. I just had this image of Bordeaux in my mind, and well it let me down in real life. It also ended up being an extremely expensive stop because I accidentally invited this German guy to join me, which just resulted in costing me even more money, and the Airbnb I had booked, and paid a fair bit for, to get some much needed alone time I knew by then I would need, ended up being shared with this guy who had the audacity to actually make me pay for our round of beers when we were out. I’m far too nice of a person it seems. Must let it go, maybe Bordeaux needs a second chance.

Italy has been amazing. I’m not sure what I was expecting to be honest. I guess it’s just that I got so many mixed reviews about it, but I even loved Rome. I reckon the whole experience would be so different in the summer when everything is triple the price and crawling with tourists. It’s been so lovely not having to compete with a bunch of tourists. Turns out everyone speaks English too which has been very convenient for me. So I’ve learned zero Italian. The big thing that I noticed is compared to Spain there is nowhere to sit outside, unless you’re paying. Spain is literally covered with park benches and green space, Italy has none of that. Also in Italy you have no rights as a pedestrian. NO ONE will stop for you ever, even if you’re at a crosswalk. You don’t matter to the insane drivers of Italy. They also all park like crazy people.  

I wonder how things are going to change as I head into Eastern Europe. 

I Blame the Pigeons

As I sat feeding the croutons from my salad to the birds, in Barcelona, I found myself returning yet again to the thought of what am I doing with my time? And maybe the real questions should be what am I supposed to be doing with my time? What does everyone else do while on vacation? The Spanish like to say that they work to live, where as we (us North Americans) live to work. I think there is some truth to that. With no job in my life I find myself wondering what to do every day. Like just wandering cities isn’t enough for me. Like I need some sort of purpose in life, which work gives me to help hide the fact at thirty I still have no idea what I am doing with my life.

What is my reason for travelling? Do I think one day I’m going to arrive in a city and suddenly find my purpose? Wouldn’t that be nice! But I’m not pinning my dreams on that. If I claim I travel to enrich my life then going on the piss constantly wouldn’t exactly be enriching now would it. Causal sex with strangers probably isn’t top of the charts for maintaining a healthy lifestyle. It would be a lie if I said casual sex with strangers didn’t give me an ego boost. But then I guess you can question if I’m really just using casual sex to find a connection with someone deeper than a conversation. How many travel-ationships did I have when I was in South America? And it’s not just when I’m traveling that my relationships follow the same structure. Short lived and way too intense. How many men filled a void I deny having? Maybe I need that, and maybe Tompers just isn’t quite enough. All of this travelling is making me realize on thing. It’s nearly time to settle down, and get a pup. Could I commit the next 15 years of my life to something?

So what am I doing? I haven’t a clue.

Day Six at Six Hundred Sixty Metres

After navigating the metro back from Toledo without using any sort of reference, I found myself walking efficiently through the side streets of Madrid. Just going about getting some bits to snack on as I was starving after my day trip. I do this without any difficulty or cheating (which is what Tompers calls using google maps) I realize that maybe six days is too long for a city. I have no idea how teetotallers go on a trip to one city and spend more than a week there, someone please tell me!

The bar man in Granada was telling me I travel like a North American, caring more about seeing multiple places than really getting to know one  place. I guess there is a lot of truth to that. I do try to fit in as much as possible when I travel.

Now in all fairness there is something I need to state. I have not been out on the piss every night. Had I been I reckon I wouldn’t remember having seen any of the city and would be sad to be leaving tomorrow not having explored. Instead after yer-man-for-32-hours left me in Madrid I sobered up and laced up my runners. Because you see I really can only do one or the other these days. As Fletch once told me, its eagle or owl. Plus after two days on the piss, proper, my tummy was not very happy with me, and I just felt gross. So I swapped to early morning runs, afternoons spent wandering the city streets, and evenings going to bed early.

So maybe I’m not giving Madrid the fair shake, but don’t misunderstand me. I love this city. In fact I love Spain so much I already want to return and I haven’t even left yet. I just can’t sort out how to go out without drinking. Also there isn’t really anyone around the hostel so my rubber arm hasn’t been twisted at all. Even Tinder has been useless here. At least in Granada there was the architect who took me all over his city and brought me to all his favorite places. Granted we must have drank at least 6 glasses of wine each in the process. Tompers is waving his arms like a maniac... we were white girl wasted, or at least I was. You see it’s either drinking or staying in for me.

But now that I have virtually walked/jogged all of Madrid I guess I had better put on my big girl panties and go find me a party with for my last night here. 

There is part of me that doesn’t think it is possible to top my first two days here, and an even bigger part of me doesn’t want anything to. That way whenever anyone mentions Madrid a smirk with play across my face and a giggle will escape my lips. Because it was one for the books.

Yer Man From Cork

I cannot say enough good things about the free walking tour of Madrid. I joked while we lazed about on a king size bed in a rather posh hotel room nearly 24 hours later. My walking tour got interesting the second we stopped at The Hat and picked up yer man from Cork... When the words I'm from Ireland came out of his mouth, I just had to go over and introduce myself. I needed my fix, I'd have never guessed he was from Cork though, his accent was so clean. On the off hand chance he was into futbol I mentioned wanting to check out the Real Madrid match. After the tour we had booked tickets and made our way up to the stadium. There may not have been much stadium behind us but I could not think of a better way to spend the money given to me by those lovely church ladies than with an Irish lad at a futbol match. Shameless cheering for both teams we had a blast, Real Madrid winning 2-1. After the match we ate and drank our way through multiple bars finally finding ourselves at San Ginés for chocolat con churro at half two in the morning. This was when the decision to throw money at the problem arose. He will forever be credited with the quote "you can always make more money, you can't make more time". His decision to stay on for the weekend and my decision to do a walking tour on my first day in Madrid resulted in a 32 hour whirlwind affair.

Madrid you have out done yourself.

The Beginning of my Love Affair

Andalucía, it just sounds sexy. We were not to be let down one bit, even though our expectations were high. Starting in Seville we arrived after a three day drinking binge leaving Ireland behind for sunshine. I had forgot just how bright the sun is! The weather was brilliant and Tompers would like to point out my freckles have finally returned. My favorite way to explore cities is by wandering with no destination in mind. Over the next week I would find myself averaging twenty five thousand steps per day in four different amazing cities of this region… Andalucía.

The Spanish people have decided that they want to live outside and the cities reflect this with massive amounts of green area and plenty of seating. I found myself every day just sitting on a park bench somewhere and absorbing the beauty of these places. For the first time ever actually just enjoying doing nothing. After all I earned this vacation, and I suffered through enough rain for a life time.  

Now forever being the budget traveller that I am I discovered some things worth noting. The mosque in Cordoba is free after half eight and before twenty past nine in the morning. This made it more than worth a visit. I have walked into a million churches all over the world this was something else. I cued to be one of the first people into the building and didn’t waste any time. I entered and went straight back to the famous prayer wall. Unbelievable. The gold mixed into the intricate designs you really have to see it to understand the beauty.  When the pipe organ started playing in the church in the middle of this mosque the sound made the hairs on my body stand up. I guess you could say I had a divine moment letting the sound wash over me.

In Granada you must wait until at least half eight at night to go out for Tapas, but for a couple of euro you get a glass of wine and a delicious bite of food. I found after three was enough for me amounting the cost of my dinner to around €6. If you want the true tapas experience Granada is a must. The city of 300,000 people actually feels more like a small town and everything is a short walk away (except the bus station!!) I had booked us tickets to the Alhambra with a guided tour as it was recommended to me. The tour itself was terrible and I had left Tompers in the hostel for the day so I didn’t even have him to amuse me. The palace itself was amazing but a self-guided tour would have been a better idea. I headed up there very early and found a pathway which lead me up to the top of the mountain where I found myself sitting and watching the sunrise over the city. This made me realize I want to spend more time in nature and to get out of the cities I have planned my whole trip to be in.

The only reason Tompers and I headed into Malaga was to catch the train out to do the Caminito Del Rey. Now this used to be the most dangerous hike in the world but they have built these extra safe walkways overtop of the original pathway. I did not get the adrenaline rush I was hoping for but it was a beautiful sunny day and the views were breathtaking. I picked up stuff from the market and we had a little picnic in the sunshine after completing the hike while waiting for the train back into the city. Malaga reminded me that Spain was not nearly as safe as the other cities in the region had me believing. There is a dark underside to this city you can see in the streets if you open your eyes to it. I certainly didn’t wander down and side streets after the sun set. I try to avoid obvious danger just so my mother doesn’t have to worry too much about me.

My Liberation from Ireland

I wandered around the gaff I had just spent the last year of my life in with a knot in my throat. That sick feeling you get right before you start crying. You know the one that gives you away when you try to speak. What a jerk like. My eyes were little pools yet amazingly enough had not overflown. To be so sad leaving was not something I expected after having spent the last year of my life down the darkest hole I had ever been in. I don’t know when the depression started. Maybe I caught it from the accident? But sure, that would mean I had it when I got there.  That would mean that the people whom have come to mean so much in my life never really got to meet me. They met shadow Mandie, someone I had created and projected up to ground level from my deep dark hole.

The funny thing is when you’re the one doing the leaving it’s not the same. There is a little bit of guilt that goes along with leaving. Just imagine cute little old Irish ladies and the amount of guilt they can throw around without any effort. Unreal like. I was half guilted back into returning before I had even left. I joked it was going to be my last day Tuesday, then I was leaving never to be heard from again. But as the days clicked closer to me leaving there was something that was becoming very apparent to me. I was going to have to return.

In all seriousness like, there really is no place like Ireland.

There is so much that has been left unsaid about my time in Ireland. Many laughs and stories I have not yet shared. Now just does not feel like the time to catch you up. Tompers is pushing to look forward and live in the now. One day the stories will come to light, like the one about the night Cilly-B & I played rock, paper, scissors for yer man with the sexy voice.