Blog 6: Travelogue

Surrounded by white walls and stillness, I take a deep breath; the smell of leftover donuts and bath gel hanging in the air. It was naive of me to think an ocean could separate me from myself.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Sitting in the middle of my unmade bed, I reach for my computer. The blank page stares at me, waiting for me to make the first move. Somewhere on this block is a party I wasn’t invited to, but that doesn’t stop my window from vibrating along to the music. I hear passersby on the street below and briefly wonder where they are headed. A pub? The bus station? Home?

Home.

I think of the people waiting for me back home and my mouth goes dry. The empty page becomes a blur behind the tears that have started to form. Fingers on the keys, I ignore the racing of my heart as I try to type my way through this panic attack, but nothing comes.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I close my eyes and count to ten. Think of something, anything. “Did you know that Ireland is home to the black headed gulls? During winter there is one black spot on the side of their head, but during Spring they molt and their whole head is covered in black feathers,” my roommate’s voice echoes in my mind. It seems to help; slowing down the thoughts inside my head. I take another deep breath.

Breathe in, breathe out.

My therapist told me once that whenever I feel overwhelmed, I should pause and make myself aware of my surroundings. I close my eyes and try to do just that. I can hear the cars racing by on the road outside of our hotel. The sound of engines grow louder and then fade away one by one. Every once in a while I hear a honk and think about the poor soul who just jaywalked and was almost run down my a moving vehicle. I open my eyes and look around. My suitcase is standing next to my bed, empty of all the clothes and shoes I overpacked for this trip. My jacket is still hanging on the chair by the desk, damp with raindrops from earlier in the day. My shoes lay discarded on the floor, indicative of how excited I was to jump into bed.

This bed.

Regardless of the fact that I have only been sleeping in this bed for about a week, I feel a type of bond with my hotel bed. A mattress so soft, it hugs every curve of my body and sheets so warm it feels as though I am wrapped in a hug. I have never gotten such a good night’s sleep anywhere in my life before I came to the Jury’s Inn. A noise from the bathroom pulls me back to reality (my roommate is taking a bath) and I am left staring at a blank page again. I feel better, a sense of ease washes over me from my head all the way down to my toes.

“I’m in Ireland,” I think to myself. Regardless of whatever happened today, or yesterday, or last year, I made it to Ireland (taking a class centered around art, no less). I did that. I think about everything that I have learned since arriving. For example, jaywalking is an art, one that takes a person many tries to master. Also, using the crosswalk signals is for amateurs. As long as there isn’t a car heading straight for you in the next 8 seconds, the road is yours.

I’ve learned that I love potatoes, but not rocket. There is likely to be a coffee shop (or three) on the way to your destination. I’ve learned that I don’t hate walking as much as I thought I did, as long as there is a view to keep me company. Cobblestone pathways are a lot harder to walk on than it looks (especially in the rain). Sometimes people are in a hurry and don’t really care how amazed you are by the river or the sky. Other times, you’re late for class and wish the sidewalks were just a little bit bigger. I’ve learned all this and know still that there is so much more to see and experience.

But most importantly, I’ve learned that home isn’t just a place, it’s a feeling. And I think I can feel it here.


I'm convinced K1NO has the best mochas. They also show cartoons on a huge screen while playing the best music.

The Shandon Bell Tower. One of the many sights on the way to the Guesthouse.

A view from one of the Guesthouse windows

#janterm180cork #ireland #travel