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.