The First Days

Wow these first few days have been absolutely non-stop. Just to keep everything straight I think I’m going to organize everything by day of the week.

MONDAY

After some last-minute packing, I said goodbye to my apartment and Morgan, Rachel, and I left Bowling Green for the Nashville airport. 

Let’s go!

I was able to fit everything into two small bags, which ended up being such a tight fit, but it was worth it at the bag carousel later. Before boarding, we made sure to exchange some of our American currency for Euros because we definitely needed it (and because their money is so much nicer, honestly), met up with the rest of our little group, and took off for Newark, New Jersey to catch our connecting flight to Ireland. Having flown so often, I’ve heard plenty of jokes about airline food, but this flight had the first non-joke-worthy meals I’ve ever had on a plane.

Leaving Newark

TUESDAY

Our flight officially landed early Tuesday morning, and we were finally on Irish soil! Since our train to Westport wasn’t scheduled to depart for another few hours, we were given a driving tour across Dublin and it’s scenic neighbors, including Malahide, Howth, and Sword. It’s amazing how much the country cares about providing its citizens with ample green space, as their extensive and beautiful public parks would put even our nicest local parks to high shame. 

Malahide has it

A path divided

After a lovely Irish breakfast, we were dropped off at the train station to begin our journey to Westport. 

Westport-bound

It’s hard to confront how accustomed you’ve become to miles and miles of buildings crammed one against the other when you’re zipping across a country of seemly endless, rolling green fields (and a very large number of happy looking sheep and cows). Over three hours, from the east coast to the west, mist covered hills like out of a Brontë novel. Even the architecture is surreal; these structures were built to last, and have lasted, for hundreds of years. The insides may be renovated, but the storied facades have character, history, and a timeless energy that one does not see too often stateside. 

The Irish flag or a country-side sunset?

As soon as we arrived at our station in Westport, we were instantly greeted by one of our wonderful hosts, Ciara, who loaded us up into a car headed to our Irish home, Broadlands BnB, where dinner was already waiting for us. We were served a creamy chicken and vegetable soup and a traditional Irish dinner of bacon and cabbage, with mashed potatoes (pictures courtesy of Morgan since I was so hungry I ate before I could even pick up my phone). One of our hosts was shocked that some of us had never had cabbage, or the orange and cranberry-flavored drinks we were given; he said that’s what every Irish kid grows up on. It’s weird, but cool, to think about how kids around the world grow up so similarly, but with totally different customs and traditions. 

The best soup ever

Irish bacon a.k.a. ham

Morgan, Rachel, and I had to excuse ourselves from dinner a bit early, as we needed to unpack and repack for our upcoming side-adventure. Being the most hostly hosts ever, they brought desert to our room so we could eat it while we packed (strudel not pictured, for the same reason as before). And just like that, the three of us were in a taxi, to the train station, and on our way to Dublin once again. The three of us slept almost the entire ride, having been up for around 24 hours at that point, so we were back in Dublin in no time. After trying (and failing) to figure out how to call a taxi without phone service or WiFi, we ended up walking the 20 minutes to our place for the night, The Generator Hostel. It ended up being one of those really cool places where there don’t seem to be any travelers over the age of 30, and people are hanging out in the lobby’s neon-lit lounge and bar well past midnight. Having arrived around 9:30 pm and having scheduled a taxi for 4:30am, though, we were not those people. 

The trendiest hostel in Dublin?

WEDNESDAY

After waking up far before the crack of dawn, we hopped in a taxi and headed back to the Dublin airport, this time departing for Berlin. After one more Irish breakfast, we took a short and sleepy plane ride into Germany, where we rode the struggle-bus trying to figure out how to get to our final destination on the actual bus. With hours before check-in and a strong urge to leave the airport, we took the bus to Alexanderplatz, the metro station that would connect us to the line nearest our AirBnB. Fortunately for us, this part of the city was absolutely covered in street vendors, all selling souvenirs, clothing, candy and some extremely delicious-looking food (though the smells we got for free). We each picked out a German snack and blew through some euros, before making our way to our hostel. 

Iconic Berlin

So much food

Rocks and minerals (of course)

Dolls in dolls in dolls in dolls

Even more food good lord

Morgan’s bratwurst

Rachel’s pretzel

Fried appelringes 

The fun thing about traveling in another country is that you get to unplug for a bit and find your way around a city with a basic set of directions, a map, and no service. The unfortunate part about this, though, is that when your AirBnB host sends you the passcode for the front door, you kind of need WiFi to see it. So we stood at the front door for a bit, peeking into the office and looking like lost Americans before walking back to the nearest metro station for the WiFi (thanks, Berlin public transportation!). Then we were walking back to the building, where I sufficiently embarrassed myself in front of some sweet European girls (also locked out)as I typed in the code numerous times, yanking on the door handle, before realizing that it was a push door, not a pull. Our room is incredible, considering it is definitely not the one I booked (but I’m certainly not complaining or telling the host). We were supposed to be in a room aptly named the sleep-box, but we were assigned a beautiful room with a private bathroom, a full sized bed, a comfy couch, two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows, and a full sized loft, complete with a lofted ceiling and chandelier. Again, not complaining. 

Expectation

Reality

 Being sufficiently exhausted, we decided to take a well-deserved nap (unanimous in the decision, as we had all unintentionally passed out sitting on our comfy beds before deciding what to do next). When we woke up from our jet-lag-induced comas, we found a restaurant that was still open, and when the server at said restaurant stated that two big parties had cleared the kitchen of food, we found a different restaurant- a Lion Burger. Yes, having traveled thousands of miles to a different country to end up at a burger place for dinner sounds like the most stereotypical American thing of all, but hey, it was late, it was open, and I got a burger with fried Swiss Rösti potatoes on it, and you can’t get that in America. 

Halfway through I remembered to take the picture

We’re back in our hostel for the night; I can’t wait to see what the rest of our time in Berlin brings us, and I’ll try to post more often so I’m not coming at you with such an aggressive wall of text and photos.

Bis später!

-Olivia

Introduction

I’ve never exactly done this before so I guess I’ll just start off with an introduction:

Hi, I’m Olivia Santangelo, and this is my travel blog! I will be using this to document my next two weeks in Ireland, including my side-trips to Berlin and Stockholm.

While I have never been to Ireland before, this will not be my first time abroad. The summer after my senior year of high school, I spent two weeks traveling across London, Paris, and various parts of Italy. My Freshman year of college, I spent spring break camping in Death Valley to study geologic formations. The summer after sophomore year, I studied citizen interaction and neighborhood history for two weeks in Washington D.C.. My last actual trip abroad was to the East Coast of Australia, where I was able to learn about Aboriginal culture and study with Native Australians.

I am excited for the opportunity to once again learn in another country and to teach in a school so different from my own.