Hej:First Day in København

Copenhagen Airport

In planning my trip to Ireland, I figured that while I was there, I should take advantage of the proximity of Dublin to so many other great European cities. While I studied abroad, I managed to see a small snippet of five other countries: Edinburgh (Scotland), Brussels (Belgium), Paris (France), London (England), and Madrid (Spain). In reality, I could've (and should've) ventured to more of a variety of places, and even to more countries since it would've been so much cheaper and I had so much time.

But now that I'm limited to two weeks of vacation and needing to start in the US as a base, I needed to really utilize my time that I was spending. So there were talks of a mini-trip, one or two countries over the course of 3-4 days (I wasn't going to give up too much of my time spent in Ireland). And luckily Shannon was all for this idea, having a goal of hers being to visit as many countries as she is old (24 countries by the time she's 24) and she was almost falling behind. (My fact about Shannon that I tell EVERYBODY is that she's been to every continent, that includes Antarctica). So we set out to find the best option for a short break and landed on Copenhagen, since Denmark was on her list as a place she had never been. So let's get to the mini-trip shall we...

We were already enthralled and impressed by Copenhagen when we landed at the airport. Beautifully designed chairs and hardwood flooring (not to mention the famed hot dogs have a stand before customs).

We took the what I suppose you would call the metro, to the stop closest to our hostel and I proceeded to walk us in the wrong direction. In case you were unaware, Danish is a confusing language. Also getting lost will become a common theme during this vacation, along with hot dogs and hurting feet.

We eventually figured out where our hostel was, Generator Copenhagen, and FYI, it's not that hard to find. I would highly recommend a stay at Generator, I know they're spotted around Western Europe (Dublin, Barcelona, Berlin, etc.) and they're some of the nicest that I've stayed at with ample sized storage for your luggage under your beds, reading lights, key cards, outlets at every bed, and a really good breakfast for not very much. The only downside we encountered during our stay was an odd (and seemingly angry) couple who were in the bunks across from ours and the massive school group that was there but neither particularly hindered us aside from lack of seating and needing to be quiet at odd times just to be considerate.

As we arrived mid-afternoon, we had hoped to get a hot dog from DØP before trying to tackle one of the sights. Little did we realize that Mondays are days on which things tended to be closed or closed early on, so we ended up missing the infamous hot dogs, but did make it just in time to visit the Rundetaarn (round tower), which gave us spectacular views of the city, and some history before we ended up settling for shwarma close to Tivoli (this was our first debacle with using the Danish Kroner, it's hard okay?)

While the views from the top were amazing, the highlight of the day for me was walking down Stroget (the main pedestrian shopping area), and looking to my left to see my beloved waffles from Brussels. We had continued walking to dinner, but OBVIOUSLY we stopped on our way back to the hostel and I was over the moon! I believe my Instagram photo caption referred to the waffle as "the love of my life".

I'll leave you with a picture of the love of my life waffle while you wait for Part 2.

Until then,

-J

Returning to the Emerald Isles

They say that upon kissing the Blarney Stone, one is granted with the gift of gab (or a load of blarney). In 2009, in the pouring rain, I kissed that stone and I must say that whenever I return to Ireland, the gift of gab goes into overdrive.

Blarney Castle, Cork, Ireland - 2009

I flew out of Detroit on a Saturday morning (we're talking early morning), and before the shops at North Terminal even opened I had made friends with two flight attendants on their way back from Paris. On my flight to Boston, I sat next to a man who grew up in my town, went to the same school as my older brothers (no longer in existence), was friends with my mom's boss and who had Big Sean and Charlie Sheen at his wedding. We talked the entire flight and I wasn't even mad about losing out on the sleep I had intended to get.

Then came an 11 hour layover in Boston, where I finally decided to check my bag through and also where I spent a lot of time wandering the terminals and watching "Call The Midwife" on Netflix (and asking everyone waiting in the queue at AerLingus if they had ever been to Ireland). But all was well when I boarded my flight to find that because I had changed my seat assignment, I was now an end seat in a completely empty row of four. The glory of being able to possibly spread out while I slept!

Then I decided to help out an elderly woman who was struggling with her entertainment system. That, however, turned into six hours of talking with the retired Irish nurse, Ethna. Mind you, I had wanted to get some sleep during this leg, but she eventually saw that and I got a quick nap in before breakfast and deplaning. At customs, just before we went our separate ways (E.U. vs. everyone else), we exchanged information and shared a quick hug.

And although I spent the first half of my week with my friend, Shannon, I had a lot of alone time during the second half of my trip where I ended up having conversations with various strangers on the streets and in my hotel pub. It actually got to the point where I was telling Shannon on how I had complimented this girl on how beautiful her hair was as we walked down the street, and she told me it was weird to be so chatty in a place where you don't know that many people. (Her roommate was on my side with the compliments).

While at home, I tend to be less outwardly social, especially with strangers, my trip brought out a different side of me. My aunt said it was probably because I was somewhere where I felt happiest and I couldn't contain my joy. I think that may be true.

I definitely am a different person while travelling, a better person I think. And by the time I was back on American soil, that chatty person had drifted away (although it may have been due to the THREE security checkpoints I had to go through upon landing at Boston Logan).

They say travelling makes you a different person, but are you a better or worse version of yourself on vacation?

Until next time,

-J

A Quick Update

It's been nine months since we've posted in this little blog. Nine months is a long time, a lot can happen, a lot can change. So here's an update.

Our last post was back in September, and I mentioned that I intended to return to Dublin for my birthday in March and I did. With my third trip under my belt, I'm fully prepared to gush more about my lovely Dublin some more, as well as my little side trip I took with a friend.

As for H and I, together as a duo we've been attempting to expand our knowledge of different areas of Detroit as often as we can. Posts on that to follow.

I'm hoping to post regularly, although I'm not committing to a schedule because we know that won't work. I should have a new post up very soon. So eyes peeled.

Hoping to win back your hearts after months away,

-J

In Love With A City

This post was originally going to follow up my "Stepping Outside of Dublin", however I thought that since today marks 3 years since my last departure for Dublin, I would share with you some reasons why, if a person could marry a city, I'd marry Dublin.

"When I Die..." by Steve Simpson

I would say that my love of the city is to the level where your heart feels so much love that it could possibly burst. It's actually not just an emotion, but a physical feeling of my heart almost bursting open (sometimes I feel this way about a person, mostly it's about this city). Dublin has such a pull on my heartstrings that once, when a friend of mine living in Dublin posted a Vimeo of sweeping scenes of the city, I ACTUALLY CRIED (sometimes this also happens when I just think about Dublin too much). Is this normal? I really don't think so. 

I love that the city feels small. That one-third of Ireland's population calls Dublin home and yet it doesn't feel too big is amazing. That Grafton Street at night is empty except for cleaners and students making their way to McDonald's from the pubs. That a bus driver will give you explicit directions on how to get to the Dublin Zoo from where he drops you off and will point the opposite way when you start off in the wrong direction. Or that a group of teenage girls will walk you to the Jervis when you have no idea what they're saying. That you can walk home down the N11 from the pub at 3 am and only be concerned about the conversation you're having.

I'm not sure what draws me in so much, what makes my heart yearn for a place as much as it does. The smells of Irish Breakfast, of the freshly fallen rain, or the sea air in Howth. The images of a bustling city street, the serenity of St. Stephen's Green, or the patchwork hills in the distance. Everything combines together into feeling content, which may be the best thing to feel. Regardless, in the words of James Joyce: "When I die, Dublin will be written in my heart."

Stepping Outside of Dublin: Meath and Westmeath

As I prepare for my third trip to Ireland this coming March, I've spent a lot of time researching things to do during the week of my stay. What I came to realize is that I had experienced a lot of the "popular" tourist attractions that Ireland has to offer, and what I missed most about being there were things that are actually quite mundane, not extraordinary things, which is really why I love them. 

On my first trip I was 18 and we worked our way around the country with Dublin as our starting and ending destination. We traveled south to Kinsale and Cork, west to Kerry and the Dingle Peninsula, north into Belfast and finished back in Dublin after a scenic drive through Wicklow. I had properly poured a pint, blind tasted whiskey, received the gift of gab, looked out for Fungi, and explored the Giant's Causeway all in ten days time.

My second journey to the Emerald Isle was two years later. I was 20 and on my own to embark on four months of studying abroad. This is a time when the farthest I traveled in Ireland was just a few hours outside of Dublin. This is when I truly fell in love with the city. 

As a study abroad student, I had some really great experiences thanks to two different programs. First, I took a class called "Exploring Ireland", which was a course that required you to attend three of four available trips to different places in or just outside of Dublin . You also had to keep a journal including pictures, and that was it. Free trips to different places, write about them, turn it in to Tadgh (the head of Archaeology who was our tour guide/professor). The second program was one that was done through the international office and was only open to study abroad students. It was a program where you put down a deposit of 5 euro to go on a trip on a certain day and when you showed up to the bus, you got the fiver back and went off. Another free trip. They allowed me to see things that I normally wouldn't have. I'm going to try to make this a sort of series and I'll start today with Meath and Westmeath...

Kells

I'm sure that if you've ever been to or heard about Trinity College Dublin, you've heard about the Book of Kells. An ancient illuminated manuscript done on calf vellum by monasteries and took over three centuries to produce, the Book of Kells (also known as the Book of Columba), now housed and displayed in the Library of Trinity, gets it's name from it's previous home in the Abbey of Kells. 

While Kells is no longer the home to the Book, it is still interested to tread the ground where it lived for many centuries and survived through countless Viking plunderings thanks to it's round tower. *I just want you guys to know that I was OBSESSED with seeing a round tower on the first trip and I didn't.* **It's not that cool, just sayin'.**

Additionally, Kells is home to five high crosses; four in the yard of the Church of St. Columba (see above where I mentioned Book of Kells = Book of Columba) and one in front of the town hall. Basically they are intricately carved crosses and, like the Book of Kells, are interesting in that they combine Celtic knot work with Christian iconography. 

This is my favorite image from Kells of the round tower and a high cross.

Loughcrew

Alright, so first let me explain this one. As this was an archaeology class, this trip was quite normal, but if you're creeped out by ancient burial grounds, you'll want to skip this one. Loughcrew is one of four main passage tombs in Ireland (Newgrange is one of these as well, I'll get to that in another post).

Loughcrew is a megalithic passage tomb that is aligned with the sunrise of the Equinox, meaning on the mornings of the two days of the year that the Equinox happens, the entire passage will be filled with light. This is an amazing feat that in 3500 BC, without modern day technologies, builders could calculate such a thing. 

If that isn't enough to get you there, then the views might be. On our journey uphill, I quite frankly thought I would never make it; the hill was steep and muddy from the rains (and I was not in shape). But the views of County Meath were amazing, and really show that patchwork Ireland that I love. 

Fore

Fobhar, the Irish for Fore, means "the town of the water-springs". Fore Abbey was founded in 630 by St. Feichin, who was said to have induced the water to flow from the ground and thus Fore is named for the saint. Today, the abbey stands in ruins, but at it's height was home to 300 Benedictine monks. Having been burned 12 times in 400 years, it still stands and is still a beautiful site to encounter with it's intricately carved arches and humbling vastness. 

On the long way out from the Abbey back to the road there is a Fairy, or Wishing Tree. What appears to be a tree with discarded clothing, ribbons and litter-like items, is actually a very sweet tradition of giving thanks to the spirits for fulfilling a wish. A sock tied on a branch may be thanks for healing a broken foot, a bib could be thanks from a parent for a spirit's help. I've seen other that are perhaps prettier, but the sentiment is beautiful here in Fore as well as in other places.

Somehow this turned into a history lesson, but I guess if you're into that sort of thing then you'll have enjoyed this. My next post for this series will be more...entertaining, you'll see what I mean. 

Until next time, 

-J

Year of Me Choice #2: Do What You Want and Don't Feel Bad

To recap: I'm working towards life improvement by making intentional and thoughtful choices each and every day...then I'm going to tell you about them! 

It has been soooo long since I've contributed to the blog (J is probably pissed, but she's been holding it down with all sorts of interesting things so it's all good). The only excuse that I can come up with is that there truly has been an incredible amount of change happening in my life this summer, and I'm still trying to keep up! Now all I need to do is remember to take the time to share it with you...

Choice #2: Do What You Want and Don't Feel Bad, is actually more like Choice #2-200, because I  used this summer to make tons of life decisions that needed to be made, and then I stuck with them.

All my life I've been a worrier. I will make a choice, then agonize over it for hours, days, or months even. I'll drive my friends crazy with my constant debating about what to do and what's right! I took some time to think about why I do this, and I've come to the conclusion that I value what other people think too much (key words being "too much"). There's nothing wrong with asking for opinions of course, but in the end I never wanted to have the final say in my own decisions. 

This is what I have been desperately working on from about June until now. Doing what I truly want to do, and not feeling bad about what other people want me to do, or what they think I should do instead. I'm not even close to being perfect at doing this, because it's hard to change 15 years of worrying into 3 months of not giving a f--k. I am trying though, and I think I've made significant progress.

Since I've been away from the blog I've made many decisions (some significant, some not so much):

 1. Spent a ridiculous amount of money to get my hair highlighted (because getitng my hair done makes me feel good, and that's OK)

2. Stuck to a healthy eating cleanse (No sugar, no starches) for about 2 months. I got a lot of backlash for this one, but I did it for me and my health and I would do it again...and I probably will in the next few months

3. Ditched my healthy eating routine (occasionally, once the cleanse was over) to eat whatever the hell I wanted. I totally savored some delicious pancakes, chili fries, and a chocolate milkshake and as I sit here today thinking about it...I don't feel the least bit bad. I do go to Zumba after all :)

4. Reached out to a friend who I'd lost touch with. Some of my other friends didn't want to contact her and that's FINE, but I did and I'm glad I did. I don't know where the relationship will go in the future, but for right now we're in a good place

5. Went for a somewhat alternative job outside of my field. I got the job, and accepted within a 24 hour period. I then got another job offer for a job within my field, which I turned down in 30 seconds. This one was hard, and I did spend a lot of time asking people what they thought. I spent a few weeks wondering if I had made the right choice. It's day 3 of my new job right now, so we'll see...

6. Went shopping for clothes...a lot. If I wanted something, I got it. J and I both agreed I had a shopping addiction going on there for awhile, but even as I look at my bank account (which is running incredibly, incredibly low) I don't regret it. I will make more money and I am now on a much more responsible budget

Hopefully this has inspired you to do something you've been truly wanting to accomplish, even if it means feeling judgement from other people. I'm going to keep working on it too, and I won't feel the least bit bad about that.

H :)


“How would your life be different if…You stopped allowing other people to dilute or poison your day with their words or opinions? Let today be the day…You stand strong in the truth of your beauty and journey through your day without attachment to the validation of others" -Steve Maraboli

 

'Cause They Say Home is Where Your Heart is Set in Stone: Going Home

When you really think about it, going home is a really vague idea. It isn't necessarily the act of leaving a place and going to a physical house, although it can be. More often it can be going to be where your family is, and sometimes it just means to your hometown or your home state. And sometimes it means returning to the place you love, or the person; sometimes it's just an emotional home. It really ultimately comes down to you alone.

For me, I have many different "homes". The house that I lived in from the time I was born until just a few months ago, where I saw my family change from a family of six to two girls after tragedy, to three with a new marriage and to four with my sister's birth, back to three after divorce and now to just my mother and my sister after I moved out. That is my home as I will always know it, it's my place I can always go back to.

I've lived in only three cities in my life: my hometown, my college town, and the city where I studied abroad. Royal Oak, East Lansing, and Dublin. Three apartments, three dorms, one house. All homes in some way. All memories and fondness when thinking about them. They were all a place I referred to at the end of the night when I said "I'm going home" and the place where I laid my head at night for months or years of my life. These are physical and emotional places I called home.

My home today is an apartment just one mile away from my mom's house. Just this week I was at her house and told her I was going to go home. That's the first time in the three months that I haven't lived with her, that I've said "home" instead of "my apartment". The next day I changed my address on my driver's license to my actual address, at my apartment, where I now go home to.

Actually feeling at home is weird. Feeling like this place is your own, feeling comfortable to be there at all times, feeling welcomed and wanted by a space. It takes time, and it's weird when a new place becomes your home and you're forever connected to that place. Any house can be a house to a person, a shelter and a place to live your life, but a house becoming a home is completely different. That emotional security of a place or a person or of a group, that makes somewhere/something your home.

Why am I writing this? Months ago I wrote out goals for myself at 23, and one of those goals was to leave the country within the next year. Well I have plans to "go home" at the end of my 23. The arrangements have been discussed and the goals for ticket buying have been set in place. I'm going home, to a place that I have called home and that I emotionally feel is one of my homes, home to Dublin to spend the last of my 23rd year and to start my 24th in. I am over the moon with the possibilities this trip has in store, and staying with my friend will make it all the more enjoyable. I'll keep you updated on this as it develops into physical results.

I've been all about song lyrics for my titles lately, here's the song that inspired this one (I used to play this on my drive home from college). Also, two days in a row of posts! Unheard of for Slow Runners Club.

"Home" -Gabrielle Aplin

Until next time,

-J