QUICK BIT OF ADVICE TO MY FAITHFUL READERS:
If you are under the impression that my travel abroad experience is "goals", or anything even in that realm, then please proceed with caution, as the tale I am about to tell you is anything but ideal. It is filled with unfortunate circumstances. However, I also feel that it is filled with an equal amount of eloquent beauty and humor, both the kind that originates from the happenings of everyday life and also the kind that comes about as a result of other people's misfortune. So here it is. The DUBLIN DISASTER 2K15, so named not because it was really a disaster (of course, there were small disasters), but rather because I am partial to alliteration, the use of "2k15" and flashy, eye-catching titles. That's digital marketing, I believe.
The DUBLIN DISASTER 2K15 began on Friday evening, a time of the week that is usually characterized by train, plane, or bus travel for me here in Luxembourg. This particular Friday evening, I was traveling to Brussels in order to catch a night flight to Irish country. Seemed simple enough. Well, my friends, it was not. After eating at a healthy little fresh food restaurant type-deal (my idea, obviously), we decided it was fine time to mosey on over to the airport to catch our flight. These sorts of things have become routine for us savvy study-abroaders, and we tend to get a little bit cocky about trains and planes and the like. THIS IS FORESHADOWING!!! DO NOT GET COCKY ABOUT ANY SORT OF SAVVYNESS!!! YOU ARE NOT SAVVY!!!! YOU CANNOT CONTROL PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION!!! EVER!!!
Before we delve further into my Series of Unfortunate Events, please enjoy this photo of a man doing crosswords at the health food hub, who closely resembled Santa Claus in both physical appearance and general jolliness.
If you are under the impression that my travel abroad experience is "goals", or anything even in that realm, then please proceed with caution, as the tale I am about to tell you is anything but ideal. It is filled with unfortunate circumstances. However, I also feel that it is filled with an equal amount of eloquent beauty and humor, both the kind that originates from the happenings of everyday life and also the kind that comes about as a result of other people's misfortune. So here it is. The DUBLIN DISASTER 2K15, so named not because it was really a disaster (of course, there were small disasters), but rather because I am partial to alliteration, the use of "2k15" and flashy, eye-catching titles. That's digital marketing, I believe.
The DUBLIN DISASTER 2K15 began on Friday evening, a time of the week that is usually characterized by train, plane, or bus travel for me here in Luxembourg. This particular Friday evening, I was traveling to Brussels in order to catch a night flight to Irish country. Seemed simple enough. Well, my friends, it was not. After eating at a healthy little fresh food restaurant type-deal (my idea, obviously), we decided it was fine time to mosey on over to the airport to catch our flight. These sorts of things have become routine for us savvy study-abroaders, and we tend to get a little bit cocky about trains and planes and the like. THIS IS FORESHADOWING!!! DO NOT GET COCKY ABOUT ANY SORT OF SAVVYNESS!!! YOU ARE NOT SAVVY!!!! YOU CANNOT CONTROL PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION!!! EVER!!!
Before we delve further into my Series of Unfortunate Events, please enjoy this photo of a man doing crosswords at the health food hub, who closely resembled Santa Claus in both physical appearance and general jolliness.
We arrived at the Brussels Central Train Station at the ripe hour of six o'clock only to realize that the airport we were traveling to was not the Brussels International Airport, which is about twenty minutes to a half hour away, but to the Brussels Charleroi Airport, which is a tad farther, about an hour and a half. Plus, it's not just a train, it's a train and a bus. These sorts of combinations are never good news, let me tell you.
Not to be deterred by potential impending doom, my friend Carly and I hopped on the train to Charleroi. After some quick calculations, we determined that we would have about forty-five minutes of spare time when we got to the airport. While this was not ideal, it was doable. We breathed.
We should not have breathed. Our train ended up malfunctioning, and we had to transfer to another train in the middle of our journey. This added a whopping half-hour to our trip, making our total potential airport time window some fifteen minutes. Ha ha! I will let that sink in.
While you are pondering our misfortune, I will reveal to you some of the nice/funny things that happened over the course of our train ride:
1. We meet two kind girls from Morocco while switching trains. They told us they had never met Americans before, so that in itself was a thrill. I am so humbled to be someone's first American! I can only hope that I lived up to their expectations. In fact, I hope that I exceeded their expectations, like I used to do on my elementary school report cards. Our Moroccan friends empathized with our situation, and gave us advice on how to sprint to the bus stop. They also told us we were welcome at their Moroccan homes anytime. This would be extremely helpful if I had, in fact, taken any of their information but alas, I did not. Ah, the ones that got away.
2. There was a troupe of girl scouts waiting with us on the platform for our train transfer, and they were rowdy AF. I was afraid that they were going to roll onto the tracks (they were doing a lot of rolling. What is it with youths and rolling around on the ground like maniacs? I will never understand the appeal of such behavior.) There was almost an incident of sleeping bag suicide, but it was stopped at the last minute.
I will spare you the details of the rest of our journey and just tell you that I paid a cab driver fifty euro for a twenty-five euro fare, sprinted into and through the airport (literally sprinted, people stared), had people call and hold the plane, and made it into the line to board. Local heroes, I know, I know. Little did we know that this was just the beginning.
The flight was hilarious. For the sake of space, I will just copy what I have in my phone notes:
Male flight attendant of age fourteen or so tells me to "get off the plane" because someone's in my seat. Turns out it was not my seat at all and I was looking at my return flight ticket, then we become friends and he lets me sit in the emergency exit aisle with extra leg room.
I ask if I can do the life vest demo and he said he would let me but he would get in "loads of trouble", which I believe. Agreed that I would be a legend if I did give the demo, however, given the amount of people I know on the plane (upwards of ten, small plane). Literally looks at me and laughs for the entirety of the demonstration. What a flirty boy. Afterward, he says, "you make me nervous".
In addition to the low-quality overpriced food offered on the plane, the flight attendants and the captain are attempting to give us deals on Calvin Kline perfume. Goodbye, cruel world.
In addition to the low-quality overpriced food offered on the plane, the flight attendants and the captain are attempting to give us deals on Calvin Kline perfume. Goodbye, cruel world.
Our arrival in Dublin late in the eve consisted of an airport shuttle to the city center, where I realized that I had forgotten my UK converter for my charger (classic), a McDonald's WITHOUT OATMEAL (idiots) that played Frank Ocean (redeemed) and the realization that the air bnb that I had booked was a half hour outside of Dublin. This would not have been an issue if I had been anticipating such a scenario, but I had not. We arrived at 2 am after a very stressful cab ride, but we were alive. I really do enjoy being alive.
Our Saturday morning started late, as the earliest bus we could take to the city center left at 9:30. We arrived smack in the middle of Dublin a half hour a later with clear eyes and full hearts. Could we lose? Maybe. But we would at least try not to.
It was in the tourist office that we experienced the Luck of the Irish, which also happens to be my favorite Disney Channel Original Movie. Our genial employee friend David found us an afternoon tour of Malahide castle, directed us to a small fishing town called Howthe, let us charge our dying phones, and undercharged us for our tour. He then gave us directions for a good brunch place up the street where we could eat while our phones charged. I don't have any photos of brunch, but believe me when I say it was delicious. When we returned to David, he slyly gave me the adapter back with my phone, slipped us free passes for the hop-on, hop-off bus, and then asked us if we "had Facebook". Dang it. Every. Time. We escaped unscathed.
Our afternoon was a true dream. I will spare you words in favor of photographs.
After WARNING DANGEROUS CLIFFS, I had developed quite the migraine, which I think was due to stress etc. It was unfortunate. We made our way back to the city center after a nice authentic Irish pub dinner that was anything but good for our health and found our bus station without too much trouble. Once we arrived at the station, however, we were greeted with the unfortunate news that our next bus would not arrive until 11:25. This was bad news for my migraine self, but what can ya do? We went to the Temple Bar area and perused the scene. There were many sights to behold. We beheld them, returned to our bus station in a TIMELY manner, and took our bus home.
Sunday morning was a bit of a later start, and our lovely air bnb host drove us to the train station so that we could get to the city center for our last few hours of exploration. We had brunch at one of the most amazing places I have ever set foot in. I hate myself for loving brunch so much, but you GUYS! If you saw this place, you would never think twice about loving brunch. I had a really good picture of the cute little front patio through the window by our table, but there was a lady eating bacon while I took it and she forcefully asked me to delete it as we were leaving the restaurant. So there's that. #paparazzi
Sunday morning was a bit of a later start, and our lovely air bnb host drove us to the train station so that we could get to the city center for our last few hours of exploration. We had brunch at one of the most amazing places I have ever set foot in. I hate myself for loving brunch so much, but you GUYS! If you saw this place, you would never think twice about loving brunch. I had a really good picture of the cute little front patio through the window by our table, but there was a lady eating bacon while I took it and she forcefully asked me to delete it as we were leaving the restaurant. So there's that. #paparazzi
This is only a third of the menu. But seriously, c'mon. "Brunch of a Sunday"??? Can you get much cuter? I think NOT!
Post-brunch we bopped on over to Trinity College, which was beautiful and perfect and made me slightly #depressed that I do not go to college in Ireland but it was all well and good. The neighborhoods over near the college were home to lots of cute coffee shops and shops, and were much quieter than the center of the city. I was a big fan.
It was a good thing we got our fix of tranquility, because the DUBLIN DISASTER 2K15 picked up again as soon as we embarked on our journey to the airport. We were cutting it close with the airport shuttle, this we knew, but we thought it would be fine. Again, ha ha.
We arrived at the airport with literally not a minute to spare, glanced at the signs for Terminal 1, and headed up to security. We waited in some lines and got scanned and whatever, and were then informed that we were in Terminal 2, not Terminal 1, and that the only way to get to Terminal 1 was to walk/jog/SPRINT because it was 20 minutes at a fast pace and that's when our flight was!!! LOL!!!! I will let you picture two weary twenty-year old girls sprinting through the airport only to arrive at a closed gate. I will let you picture the sadness. Just picture it.
There was another flight to Brussels that left an hour and a half after our original, missed flight. We scrambled. We succeeded (barely). We landed in Brussels around 8:30, took an underground train to the station, and found that there were no trains that night to Luxembourg. In fact, there was no transportation at all. What does one do in that scenario, you ask? You book a hostel and hope for a good breakfast buffet.
Good news, our hostel was a dream. I am not exaggerating. It was like a hotel, complete with bathrooms in the rooms, workable wi-fi, friendly staff, and DUVETS. Sure, the beds felt like rocks and the breakfast was an extra eight euros, but our roommates were all sleepyheads, the water was hot, and life was good.
Something that you should know about the French and the Belgians is that they really like to go on strike. They strike everything, from unfair wages to the weather. I joke, but I also don't. Anyway, there was a train strike on Monday, and no trains went anywhere out of the country. We discovered this at the train station. The DUBLIN DISASTER 2K15 continued, an epic saga. After much fiddling and scheming, we determined that we could travel to the airport and get a bus home. Shoutout to Flibco. You are my favorite company alive. Thank you for not striking.
After another train and bus (!) we made it to the airport, and found some fellow Miamians, also stranded on their way back from Dublin (hey guys). We took the Flibco home and all was right with the world. I could have kissed the Luxembourgish ground. Never in my life have I been so content to not be doing anything at all.
It was a good thing we got our fix of tranquility, because the DUBLIN DISASTER 2K15 picked up again as soon as we embarked on our journey to the airport. We were cutting it close with the airport shuttle, this we knew, but we thought it would be fine. Again, ha ha.
We arrived at the airport with literally not a minute to spare, glanced at the signs for Terminal 1, and headed up to security. We waited in some lines and got scanned and whatever, and were then informed that we were in Terminal 2, not Terminal 1, and that the only way to get to Terminal 1 was to walk/jog/SPRINT because it was 20 minutes at a fast pace and that's when our flight was!!! LOL!!!! I will let you picture two weary twenty-year old girls sprinting through the airport only to arrive at a closed gate. I will let you picture the sadness. Just picture it.
There was another flight to Brussels that left an hour and a half after our original, missed flight. We scrambled. We succeeded (barely). We landed in Brussels around 8:30, took an underground train to the station, and found that there were no trains that night to Luxembourg. In fact, there was no transportation at all. What does one do in that scenario, you ask? You book a hostel and hope for a good breakfast buffet.
Good news, our hostel was a dream. I am not exaggerating. It was like a hotel, complete with bathrooms in the rooms, workable wi-fi, friendly staff, and DUVETS. Sure, the beds felt like rocks and the breakfast was an extra eight euros, but our roommates were all sleepyheads, the water was hot, and life was good.
Something that you should know about the French and the Belgians is that they really like to go on strike. They strike everything, from unfair wages to the weather. I joke, but I also don't. Anyway, there was a train strike on Monday, and no trains went anywhere out of the country. We discovered this at the train station. The DUBLIN DISASTER 2K15 continued, an epic saga. After much fiddling and scheming, we determined that we could travel to the airport and get a bus home. Shoutout to Flibco. You are my favorite company alive. Thank you for not striking.
After another train and bus (!) we made it to the airport, and found some fellow Miamians, also stranded on their way back from Dublin (hey guys). We took the Flibco home and all was right with the world. I could have kissed the Luxembourgish ground. Never in my life have I been so content to not be doing anything at all.
Let this be a lesson to you kids: you cannot control anything around you. You cannot control what happens to you in life, you can only roll with the punches, and sometimes the punches FREAKING HURT. But the waves will come, and when they do, roll you must, lest you be swept away with the tide. #RollTide #Bama #SurvivoroftheDUBLINDISASTER2k15
But seriously you guys, I saw some freaking beautiful cliffs, ate some freaking good food, and met a lot of freaking awesome Irish people. So it was not for naught. But it was expensive. And it was stressful. And that's life. Ain't it grand?
But seriously you guys, I saw some freaking beautiful cliffs, ate some freaking good food, and met a lot of freaking awesome Irish people. So it was not for naught. But it was expensive. And it was stressful. And that's life. Ain't it grand?