new locations
Things I have been doing a lot in Dublin: walking, and going on to internet cafés. Yesterday I walked around all morning with my pack, not thinking that I could leave it in the hostel’s luggage room (my hips are tender from the pack; they should toughen up soon though). This morning I switched hostels, and got lo… ahem, took the “long way.” This hostel is less claustrophobic, but also not in the middle of everything. It’s not actually difficult to get to (a block off a main street) but I’m still pretty spacey. Also I bought groceries today, which was fairly exciting even though I didn’t venture from my standard fare: broccoli, rice, yogurt, soy sauce.
Other news, briefly: I think I’ve read this book before; I just picked the most expensive internet café in the city; my Moleskine is invaluable; I did my first postcard and it is so atrocious I might throw it out. I can’t find the shower at the hostel I’m at now. The breakfast offered at last night’s hostel was a mini loaf of bread, orange juice, and/or cornflakes. I’m going to have a real Irish experience now and go see X-Men III.
airport in boston
I’m in the airport and still nervous as… something. It’s the same feeling I get between when I get blood drawn and when I either retch or pass out, but heck if I’m going to pass out here in the airport. It doesn’t help that it’s hot out.
As soon as I got through security, I thought about pulling out my laptop… but all I have is a notebook and a reading book (The Ground Beneath Her Feet by Salman Rushdie, by Karianne’s recommendation). Good to have and internet kiosk to check in to, though.
later
Now that I’ve got an audience, I’m leaving. My laptop battery is at about 40%, last minute mail is addressed (and wrapped with old-style packing tape), and my backpack is crammed. The final packing list included rubber boots, and leaves out one extra undershirt. I’m dehydrated and nervous and my next post will come from the other side of the Atlantic.
I spent yesterday doing some gardening with my mom; here we’re showing our only clean bits left (our teeth).
backpack packing
I did my first version of my pack last night; it’s at version 0.1a right now, meaning it’s missing some crucial features (like pants). All the basics are there, though: I’ve got my sleeping bag, a sweater, my camera, and some socks. I also have an alcohol stove and a small pot, which I’m fairly sure will turn out to be gratuitous, but! It’s a pepsi can stove! After lusting after it for a year, I was finally given one (thanks Kelly!) and anyways it will fit if I just leave out the kitchen sink. I justify the stove, in my head, as my ticket to food independence. What I’m imagining is me sitting in a city park at a misty 6:30 am, with my pot perched on top of the stove and water boiling for tea.
jeeze, Dad, don’t worry: I will be cozy and asleep in hostels or kind farmers’ front rooms at 6:30 every morning. I will not be wandering the streets and making tea with bums, except for possibly in some bizarre dream.
moving day
I’ve got one key left on my keyring and I’m wearing a black plastic fedora: it’s moving day. Actually, it’s the final of three moving days. When I move I tend to put on clothes that don’t fit in boxes and cram loose ends into my pockets. On the drive home yesterday (which was moving day number two), I didn’t have much to say except “this is trippy.” (literally! I’m going on a trip!) It’s bizarre to detatch so suddenly— within the space of a week I have no more school, no more job, and no more apartment.
