Here! Finally!

I am here. I am in one piece. God knows it was a bumpy ride...

After waiting at my airport gate for an hour, the three or four of us who weren't in the know were told that Northwest cancelled its flight to Boston. I ran to the customer service counter as fast as my little legs could carry me, and told the travel agent there I needed to get to Boston to catch my connecting flight. Then I learned that Boston was out because of the white-out snow conditions. The agent then sent me on a flight going to Amsterdam in three or four hours, and at Amsterdam I could take an Aer Lingus plane to Dublin. I went to sit at my gate, which was just underneath a huge video screen, and proceeded to watch seven cycles of the half-hour CNN news reel they were playing all morning, which mostly detailed fireworks displays in Australia and Asia.

When I finally got on the plane, I thought I'd been given a lucky break. It was a Northwest flight, so there were little individual televisions embedded in the backs of each of the seats. My fare came with two in-flight meals as well, whereas on Aer Lingus I'm pretty sure I would have had to buy any food I ate. However, at about 9 p.m. EST, 2 a.m. Dublin time, I realized that dinner kept everyone from conking out as soon as the sun went down, and that hundreds of individual movie screens give off a huge amount of light. Needless to say, I didn't sleep very long or very well on the plane.

And at least I'd get to drink a Heini in Amsterdam to ring in the New Year, right?

Not so fast. Future travellers, please take note: there are no restaurants or bars open in the Amsterdam airport at 5:30 a.m., at least on bank holidays. Also: you'd better eat your in-flight breakfast, because the only food available so early comes from the duty-free shop, and is horrifically expensive. A coke light and a box of cheapo peppermints (Wilhelmina pepermunts, the size of alkeselter tablets) were three euros--and apparently, passengers can't bring food onto Aer Lingus flights. Amsterdam Airport was also an oven. Maybe it was just because it was 5:30 a.m. and for some reason my air-conditioning spouts in the seating unit of my previous flight both somehow pointed to my seatmate, but it was hell waiting in the transfer line. On top of all that, I had a three hour layover, two hours of which I spent alone, sitting outside my gate, knitting and listening to This American Life to keep alert. By the time I got on the plane, I was about to have a exhaustion-induced nervous breakdown.

HOWEVER, the moment my Aer Lingus plane descended below the thick layer of clouds covering Ireland to reveal that ancient green farmland, it was like reaching Nirvana. A calm swept over me. After the descent, everything went smoothly: the Irish police force, the Guarda, OKed me quite easily and even gave me a month to register with them in Dublin, which is very generous to my understanding. Miraculously, my bag didn't get lost in the confusion of all the cancellations and switches, and there were even free luggage trolleys so that I wouldn't throw my back out carrying my eighty pounds of luggage. The taxi ride was wonderful, because by 11 a.m. on New Years Day, no one was on the road. Driving into a deserted Dublin, all in shades of light gray on account of cloud cover, was so charming, and so calming. It might've helped that the taxi driver's selected radio station was playing Stevie Wonder and other happy-go-lucky 80's hits, but I'll get to that later.

When I checked into my hotel room, my roommate hadn't arrived yet, so I spread out, emailed my parents, took a piping hot shower, and napped for an hour or two. Then came the welcome lunch, which was sufficiently awkward because none of the thirteen people on the trip knew each other. The Hamiltonians will be happy (or frusterated) to know that I had a lengthy discussion about post-irony and pre-irony with a philosophy major, who brought up everyone's favorite concept on his own, by the way.

After delicious goat cheese and vegetable tarts, we took tea into a conference room and our program director spent two hours describing to us Irish history, Irish customs, Irish banking/dining/shopping/renting/and on and on. She gave us massive packets to read and a folder full of Trinity-specific hand-outs. By the time she finished, I had an address, a permanent roommate, and about a thousand things to take care of before class starts on Monday morning. All of this will be more difficult because, while our apartments are incredibly hip and wonderful, we have NO internet access. How am I going to live without internet? The girls I'm living with have already agreed something must be done about that. I see a wireless port in our future.

Anyway, from 5:30 to 6:30 p.m. I chatted with my parents on Skype and straightened out a few emails. Then, at 6:30, one of the "year girls" took us out around Dublin. It might have been all of the gorgeous christmas lights, or just the fact that everything looks more romantic at night, but oh my GOD, is Dublin beautiful. It's also so compact, in our hour and a half of walking around, we passed by many places more than once. There are SO MANY wonderful-looking pubs, vintage stores, used book stores, music stores, coffee shops, it's daunting. I've been scoping out coffee shops especially--I think I might offer my working services in exchange for meals. Bartering isn't covered in visa laws, is it? After our long walk, our group went to a greasy fish-and-chips place. By this time, we were all friendly and acting silly because of our exhaustion, so we got along swimmingly. I hurried home at 8:30 to keep a skype date with Andrew, and drugged myself to sleep with Niquil, and was out like a light by 10.

Here's something I haven't mentioned: My roommate hasn't arrived yet. She's the only one who was delayed past the welcome lunch, and it's 8 a.m. on January second and still no sign of her. I'm nervous, because she's my roommate for the duration--what if she's the only one I don't get along with? Anyway, I hope she comes soon.

Here's a short list of observations of Irish/European culture I've collected in the past 36 hours:

1-Everyone in Ireland at least seems to be genuinely enamored of 80's music. There was a "Classics" channel on the Aer Lingus radio system that consisted of all Blondie, Sting, and early Madonna. My middle-aged cab driver had an 80's station on in his car. Even the up-scale in-hotel restaurant where we had lunch played Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go and Come On Ilene.

2-Everything has a price. The hotel room is nice, but I had to pay extra for internet, and I would have had to pay for television and a wake-up call because the TV doesn't have a connection on its own and there isn't a clock in sight. Even the lights require the use of my hotel card.

3-This price is expensive. Our program director told us that there's a 21.5% tax on luxury goods in Dublin, the highest in the EU (as compared to France with 19ish percent).

4-This is definitely a youthful culture. Most of the people we saw out and about last night seemed to be in their 20's. I even saw a group of hipply-dressed twelve or thirteen-year-old couples making out against an abandoned-looking building.

Well, that's all for now, I'm going to collect on the free continental breakfast. Muesli, here I come!