Dinner: an impressionistic exploration.

Hey.

To wear down the intimidation of writing a big piece,

I'm going to share with you

an impressionistic view

of a warm night in Castletroy, Ireland.

+Riley

It is Loud Here

Ireland, so far, has been people.

Some sights and languages are different, but there are still the many unique social channels to tune into. My richest experience, as I mentioned briefly before, here has been a global perspective on empathy. The bulk of my time has been a tactile exploration of what I've been told my whole life: that we, humans, are all so unique, and all so connected.

Cutting my 21st birthday cake

America is not alone, and we do have a reputation outside of our shores.
I've seen it, and it's not much different than one might expect.
I have also observed also a similar sense of humor across cultures. That laughter has brought me hope. I've noticed its unitive power. I imagine the news, the votes, and the discussions that I and all these other people will have when talking about the world, when we return to our corners.
I have hope that there, at the root of their discussions to be had, will resonate the love and laughter in our relationships formed here.

My first Irish rain

I have hope, hope, and hope again.



The honeymoon is over, too.
There are too many opportunities. In order to experience any, I must miss so many more. This tour, that tour, a night out, a good night's sleep, or good academic performance.

I spend some days (especially the early mornings) searching for creature comforts: sugar, tea, television shows, Facebook messages, warm clothes, snacks. I miss home.
There are less things to munch here. It is expensive. I get nervous when there's nothing to munch on. I've been nervous lately.

I feel also that what is expected of me is ambiguous. There are high expectations for Irish students (now my colleagues), but how about me? I will not graduate here. How much does my performance really matter back home? To some degree, it will, but I will really take what I actually learn.

What can I learn in Ireland uniquely?

A stump carved into a throne I found

I return to the love I've shared with my international friends, and I look again at my Irish colleagues.
I consider balance, and naturally, my relationship with time and money.


I've been saving so much of both for my trip, so now will I finally feel justified to squander it? Will I be any more generous because I am here? I've been just as careful with money as I was before. I do not count what I have, but I am hesitant to spend it when surrounded by grand opportunities to explore.


I am of the belief that my time here is due to a force outside of myself.
I am a passenger, on this, the most independent act I've yet participated in.
I believe this force, or this spirit will be what decides where best I can give to this place, and, reflectively, where I will receive the most fruit.

I resolve, then, to the spirit.
I pray for the courage to follow when I hear it and the patience to listen when I don't.
That is all I have and all I need.

The Early Irish Breakfast

Listen:

I've been sleeping for the last year, dreaming of greener grass and music.
The flight attendant asked me [in her brilliant accent] to move my suitcase up to the front of the plane, because the back had no room left. I was awake. The passengers tattered in the poetic lilt of the Irish, and the Boeing 757 200 series was decorated with shamrocks.

The plane window was entirely dark for the duration of the trip. I'd slept, read, and watched a movie for hours. Upon descent, the window quietly displayed the city like a tired animal at the zoo: reluctant to be seen. I held the city lights in my eyes like diamonds.

The clouds went away and the ground moved closer like one does with the lips of a lover.
When the plane hit the ground, I felt like I had been kissed hard.

***

Jet lag and a hard reset later, I then was in a house with Germany, Switzerland, and Sweden. 

In our house, we celebrate language, cultural differences, global politics, and the like over noodles, rice, potatoes, vegetables, oil, beer, and the like. We are at the foot of Babel.

First visit to town

I keep a stack of euro coins on my desk so I can grab a fist full every morning. In that first week, I only just barely kept up, only just got enough sleep, only just had enough to eat. The cultural experience is very familiar, and inconvenient at worst, but I've still been struggling with adjusting and staying balanced between academics, social fun times, and Irish adventure.

[This is no different than being home]

I do not yet have a full scope of what money here is worth. I can't help but see something for three euro and feel like I'm paying three dollars, when I'm really paying closer to five. I live off the fat of my careful savings from back home. My resources, when unchecked, feel infinite like my youth. That's why I carry around those coins: so I can feel my pockets get lighter.

Watered down juice
(orange, apple, or lemon)
is a popular drink in our flat

***

There is not enough time to do all the things here, nor, like my finite pile of bus coins, do I think there should be. Time is precious, as we know, because of its finite nature. Missed opportunities, then, are a fruit of time's own beauty. We celebrate the opportunities we choose, just as I am thankful and aware of my singing pocket.

Just as I am thankful for this place

 ***

Our first dinner together

Torn paper bags are a regular part of life
#groceryshopping

I pray, dear readers, that you are able to look beyond this superficial squander of travel and find some deeper insight. This is where the richness of my trip lies. These little musings are beyond me. Hopefully, they inspire questions, which lead to understanding, which, I believe, is at the root of love. This global love, then, fellows, is all we have to give.

Sleep soundly, America.
We are marvels on every face of this planet.