Captain Fly by the Seat of My Pants -- Doolin, Ireland

I'm starting this post from the common area of a hostel in Doolin. It's after eleven and there are only four others up -- although they're making enough of a ruckus for an entire party as they thoughtfully contemplate the loudness of motorcycles.

Not as loud as you lot, I struggle to concentrate on what I'm doing as they start making motorcycle sounds. 

"Vrooom, vroooom, chugga, chugga -- "

"Do you have Hell's Angels in Sweden?"

"Yeah, yeah." 

You might wonder what the hell I'm doing in a hostel. Part of me is still wondering what the hell I'm doing in a hostel -- I've sworn off this kind of budget accommodation since my negative experience in Madrid and have dedicated myself solely to couchsurfing. Couchsurfing is a way to meet locals and experience the town/city in a non-touristic manner that's much more personal and meaningful. However, things haven't gone according to plan as of late, and I've had to make a few compromises. Ireland has turned my itinerary into a crazy, exciting, topsy-turvy, laughable mess. I had planned to stay with a friend from the 7th to the 14th of July, but after days of messaging/phoning him and hearing nothing back, I decided that plan was probably not working out and I needed to find a fallback. The morning of the 7th dawned and still no word from the fellow with whom I'd been planning to stay. I was bewildered, anxious, hurt, and a wee bit frightened. It made me question the reliability of the rest of my plans and forced me to the "I can't and shouldn't rely on anything. I can't and shouldn't have any expectations whatsoever. I can't and shouldn't plan so much and be so devastated when my plans don't work out" understanding.

The person I'd planned to stay with in London is no longer in London. 

The person I'd planned to spend a month with in Germany can now only host me for three weeks. 

The person I'd planned to spend a week with in Rome is no longer in Rome. 

And I just have to adapt. Better for me if I don't stress out about it and simply enjoy the flow of my life. Better for me if I don't feel like an incompetent nincompoop because I can't/don't want to constantly battle my way upstream.

I don't have the money to be flexible, I chewed my bottom lip. The reasons I can travel on such a tight budget are that I don't move around a lot, I don't pay for accommodation, and I stick to my non-touristic, inexpensive plans. Flying by the seat of my pants is costly and stressful. And takes a good deal more courage and ingenuity than I'm accustomed to exercising. 

But the 7th rolled around and I found myself in need of a place to stay. Luckily enough, Doroteja (the magnificent Slovenian chef who spoiled me rotten with her cracklings) had introduced me to a couple of her friends the night before. Upon voicing my concerns about not having a place to stay, one of them offered me a spare room in his house. So I spent Sunday night in Cork and booked a hostel in Doolin (alas, there are no couchsurfers in the area) for tonight and tomorrow, and arranged to stay with Lochlann (who has been such a saving grace on this trip) for the final few days in Ireland. 

We'll see how well this plan holds out. 

I'm spending loads of money that I can't really afford to be spending... but something about spending loads of money feels great. Feels fantastic, actually. I bought my ticket to the Cliffs of Moher. I am here not out of the generosity of a friend, but because I pruned roses at Judy's, biked through snowstorms at 5:30 in the morning to teach yoga, took needles away from sexually reactive youth trying to tattoo themselves in their bedrooms, and cradled an adorable bouncy child until he stopped crying and fell asleep. I'm here because I worked for it. I love knowing that I paid for the top bunk in room ten, the right to sit in the poorly lit common area, and for the bus ticket from Cork to Doolin. For today and tomorrow, this space belongs to me as much as anyone else. This is a feeling I don't experience very often whilst volunteering and couchsurfing, and I would like to experience this sensation of independence more often. TEFL in Prague, here I come! I will be a self-sufficient traveler yet, just you wait. Emergency fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants weeks won't be problematic because I'll actually be able to afford them.

Interesting street art made from wooden hangers. Seen on my last walk through Cork with Roisin. There seems to be a raw, crude, expressive element that runs through Irish art.

A view of Kinsale. I spent Saturday afternoon walking around the 700 year old town, taking pictures and eating chocolate and enjoying the wonderful company of Doroteja and her friends.

Kinsale festival balloon art.

Grant made a fierce tiger. Especially when the sparkles were added.

Observe all the cows in Irish art.

 The final day in Cork, Doroteja drove us down to Fota -- a sort of free-range zoo just outside of Cork. I was able to witness a terrifying duck attacking a large, bewildered monkey, a persistent pelican failing to swallow a resistant fish, and a cheetah chasing a dead rabbit on a zip-line.

This might be the closest I get to a red squirrel. They've got an infestation of American grey squirrels, and the red squirrels are well on their way to going extinct. Or being super-endangered.

 My bus for Doolin left at 9:25 this morning.

My bus broke down at about 13:00. We were stranded on the side of the road for an Irish 15 minutes. Which is equivalent to an American half hour.

Being shipwrecked with a busload of people in the Irish countryside was rather amusing. The heat was extreme (so bizarre) and a sweet older lady walked around handing out free water bottles. As I wasn't pressed for time, I just enjoyed the random experience and the kindness of strangers.

 I met a friendly, interesting chap from New Mexico at the hostel and asked if he'd join me on the walk to the Cliffs. It took a good two hours (we took loads of pictures, so we were moving at a toddler pace) of trudging uphill, but we made it...

And god, it was worth it. So, so worth it.

This is where you all notice and appreciate the armpit sweat. I am in Ireland. And sweating.

A friend told me to look over the edge of the Cliffs and watch the waves crash against the base. He said this experience would change my life. I think he may be right.

Preconceptions:

As noted earlier, I sweated profusely all day today. I got a sunburn on the back of my neck. More evidence that it does not rain all the time in Ireland.

Challenges:

I tried poitin! In the form of truffles. :)

Delicious.