(but I have not met anyone named Molly Malone yet.)
If you don't know the song, then never mind. or Google it.
anyway, I just made my way from London to Glasgow to Dublin. This is old hat to my buddy Josiah, but it is my first time really travelling alone, and I was nervous. REALLY nervous that I would: get in an unsasfe situation, end up spending disgustingly huge amounts of money getting place to place due to ignorance, or....my biggest fear....get irreparably lost.
To my great elation, everything has gone smoothly. Transit, connections, accomodation, etc.
Incidentally, this rocks. I'm 22, laden with backpack, and exploring the British Isles at will. I am saving money by sleeping at the houses of random people I met online. Not kidding, check out couchsurfing.com, though I may have posted that already.
The feeling of: planning, funding, and executing my own trip like this is....indescribable, really. I come from a very loving, very (self-admittedly) overprotective family. For the first time I am making a sort of large scale decision without their concurrance, as it was deemed unsafe and unwise that I travel alone.
So I am feeling kind of independent. Yesterday I went to evensong at St.Patrick's cathedral (upon entering, I was asked "wait. You know this is a Protestant service, right? OH....you
know!!?!"), read James Joyce in the Remembrance Garden, and toured the Guiness factory; all quintessentially Irish things to do.
I am hoping to use this time of silence and self-direction as a sort of spiritual pilgrimmage, a retreat if you will. Last night I met an Irish man at a pub who thought it was sad I had consciously decided to travel alone when I did not have to. Funny, I didn't think to see it that way. I find it decidedly freeing.