My arrival to Ireland was a tale of exhaustion, stress, and ultimately, tremendous hubris. It was neither air travel nor customs that when wrong. It was what happened once I was in Ireland.
First of all, it was quite difficult to get to the AirCoach pick up spot… because I, a fool, had selected the pickup spot further from where I landed. The AirCoach ride went well, and I got a whole half an hour of sleep (the only sleep I had gotten so far on any part of the 20 hours of traveling I had done).
After I got off the AirCoach, it was time to walk from the AirCoach stop to my accommodation, Ashlin House. A quick look at Google Maps showed that it was a half-hour walk there, and something about me: I walk a lot. I typically get somewhere between 8k-10k steps every day, a half an hour walk is nothing. So, I decided I’d walk rather than get a taxi. Wrong decision. I was excessively sleep deprived, hadn’t eaten a proper meal since I started traveling, and was carrying very heavy luggage. Not only that, the paving stones were very uneven and difficult to drag my bags across.
Despite my overconfidence in believing I could easily complete the walk, I was making some smart decisions. I was walking slowly, taking frequent breaks, and drinking from my water bottle regularly. Yet, somehow, the hydration was what screwed me over. I had set my backpack (which was holding my laptop, IPad, passport, and wallet in it) down to get my water out during one of the breaks, and managed to forget to put it back on before I started walking again. It was about three minutes of walking later that I realized my mistake, and started my panicked dash back to where I had left the backpack.
I thankfully retrieved the backpack with no casualties other than my dignity, which was further injured by the presence of two spectators to my frenzy. There happened to be a pub along the street where I made my run, and there were two old Irishmen in front of it. The Irish, from my experience, are generally rather kind; these men checked on me. They asked me not to “give myself a stroke”, offered me help, and warned me about sketchy areas. I told them, and I quote, “No thank you – this is the result of my hubris and I’m going to see it through.” They let me go after a bit more worried questioning, and I am grateful for their concern… but certain that that will be a story they tell forever to their drinking buddies.
I managed to make it to Ashlin House without any more disasters. Once I was there, one of the employees showed me to my room. The rest of that day was much more relaxed, with the primary goal being to unpack, get the lay of the land, and get some food.
The first few days were all about making adjustments and meeting other foreign students. They were honestly pretty hard; I was quite homesick and felt isolated from everyone back home due to timezone differences. But it got a lot better after the first week. I was able to start making connections here, get used to the environment, and find a new routine. I’ve started to really love Cork City; it’s pedestrian centric, friendly, full of art and historic cites, and has a lot of good nature spots (many of which are on UCC campus, that place is ridiculously stunning).
It’s now my third week here, and I’m very glad that I made the decision to come here. I’ve been loving Ireland as a whole, and my place in it. I can’t wait to see what adventures it has waiting for me.
