This week marks my third full one in Dublin and a crazy few weeks it has been. There's a lot to write about - the good, the bad, the frustrating, the wonderful - and so much that it nearly feels overwhelming. I'll begin maybe with the story behind newest background photo to the blog, which I just took this past weekend on a cliff walk from Greystones to Bray. These are two small coastal towns about an hour away from Dublin city. I tried to wake up early-ish on Sunday to get a run in since my exercise routine here has been less than regimented, but didn't end up getting out until about 8. Still, in true Irish style, there was no one on the streets, in the road or in the cafes and I pretty much had the city to myself. Daylight seems to follow suit in this yawning lag as it doesn't get properly bright here until about 7:30-8 am. But the weather has been (uncharacteristically, I'm told again and again) absolutely beautiful and the mornings are especially so. I live right on the river in the docklands, and running over the bridge near sunrise and catching the smell of sea salt and hearing the caw of water birds is almost enough to help cure my caffeine habit completely.
But not completely, as one of the first things I did in Dublin was research the best coffee places near where I live. There are a few I like, and usually in the morning I'll go to the little stand by the harp bridge with all the finance bankers because it's close and pretty cheap. A more trendy, pricey one is about a 15 minute walk away and not really central to anything, which is kind of why I like it, if I've the time for a leisurely walk with no other destination in mind. But it does happen to be only about a 5 minute walk from a Dart station, which was useful to me on Sunday as I was planning my trip out of the city. While last Wednesday I look a more fancy 2 hour train ride to Cork that had a dining car and wifi and my pre-ticketed name above my seat, but cost less than a peak hour metro north ticket, the Dart train reminded me more of the train to NYC… except that it only cost 3 euro each way. And, ok, the Hudson River can be very pretty, but it really doesn't compare to traveling along the Irish coastline, which on this day was overcast, misty and and expansive. It was on the train that I realized I had set out to walk along from Greystones to Bray, but actually had no idea what that meant or what direction I was meant to be headed, or where the station would be relative to the coastline. But what Ireland seems to often lack in inefficiency it makes up for in simplicity, and things tend to be relatively easy to figure out.
Greystones was the last stop on the line and was quite a pretty little town from what I saw - very quaint and old-looking with heaps of little shops that (of course?) being Sunday at noon were not even yet open. But there were church bells everywhere, and cafes around where I could stop for a coffee and some directions. The shoreline was just a five minute walk away and I noticed a tourist map at the head of the beach mentioning a cliff walk. I'd really just been keen to walk from the beach in Greystones to Bray, which had been the train stop before but would probably be about a 1-2 hour walk, but a cliff walk sounded too interesting to ignore despite the fact that I'd worn a knee length skirt and some flimsy ballet flats. My second order of business was finding the beginning of the cliff walk since I'm terrible with maps, and the big red arrow signaling YOU ARE HERE means legitimately nothing when I have no idea which direction I'm supposed to be going or what any of the place names signify. But my first order of business was finding a bathroom. Like Australia, public bathrooms in Ireland seem to be kind of a problem as in there aren't many around, and cafes don't necessarily like you to use them, if they even have them for public use. Even for bigger places in the city centre like Starbucks, there are lots of procedures and codes and secret passwords before they let you in. But thankfully I did see a sign for a public toilet by the beach parking lot, and was confused when I came across what looked like one of those pods that gets ejected from space shuttles. Someone beat me to it, and I watched with very keen interest as he put a 50 cent euro coin in the slot and the door slid open with an ominous whirring noise and shut behind him. When he came out the door closed behind him quickly before I could slide in without paying a coin, and then even when I tried to pay the coin, it rejected it. I noticed a little screen beneath the coin slot that said "sorry - cleaning in process, please wait."
What.
Two older tourists came up behind me and gave me an inquisitive look.
"I think it's cleaning itself. It won't let me in."
The woman nodded knowingly, and it confused me even more that she would know what this meant. Public restrooms in America are on the whole pretty disgusting. I thought they'd be better in Australia, but they were actually unfailingly abominable. The only country in which I've ever had a good public bathroom experience was Japan, and I can only speak for the airport. This was totally blowing my mind.
Finally, the cleaning was complete, and I was allowed into the bathroom pod. There was a series of instructions and buttons on the wall notifying me that I could press one to lock the door, press another for assistance, and another for further instructions on how to use the bathroom. I was told that the bathroom was self-cleaning and would sterilize after each use. I was also warned I only had 20 minutes, which stressed me out way more than it should have. There were no faucets or taps, just an automated sink/dryer. All I had to do was hold my hands under the counter and first came out soap, then two seconds later hot water, then the dryer turned on. I must have come out appearing dazed because the tourist woman gave me a look of genuine concern. I didn't know how to express why this was all so bizarre to me, so I just said, "I'm American, we don't have bathrooms like that."
She laughed, and gave me the same knowing nod as before.
I still had very little idea where I was going, and had all but decided to to just have a walk along the beach and hope I ended up in Bray, but then stumbled on a small sign directing me towards the cliff walk. I was a bit wary of it firstly because at the onset, it looked as if the path was headed through a construction site rather than up a quaint Irish coastline, and also because everyone else was dressed in hikers and yoga pants huffing along with fanny packs and tank-sized water bottles. I guess "cliff walk" can sound daunting and rigorous, but really aside from some rocky parts where I'd have been grateful for a sturdy pair of sneakers, it was just a gravel path up and over the hills with some beautiful views of the very green cliffs that hug the shore. It wasn't the sunniest day, but the mist and clouds and on-and-off rainbows made it seem all the more Irish. Most of the people on the walk seemed the be tourists as they're were plenty of couples and big groups, and I heard a multitude of languages. I probably stood out a bit, firstly as someone who opted to wear a skirt and cardigan on a hike, and also as someone who was going it alone. There were a fair few joggers and some lone photographers, and even a few people by themselves just there to pick the berries that grew on the bushes alongside the path, but most people were in some sort of team. I don't really mind traveling alone, or doing things on my own (this entire endeavour had been an exercise in doing things on my own) but I AM pretty used to having some kind of companion with me when I've explored some new place, and it has been a very surreal leap out of my comfort zone. It's been good in some ways - never have I really been forced to learn everything about a new city, or a new country for that matter, on my own terms, and never have I really been forced to get out and meet people and do new things any way that I can. It's really made me take advantage of all of my surroundings, and take no experience for granted. But on the other hand, it's not always successful, and some of the people I've met have already felt a bit transient in the way that the people you meet at uni orientation are your "friends" for about five days before they meet people that are not just there for convenience, but people they actually like. Or, they are people that are already settled and have friends and lives and I have the sense that I'm trying to wiggle my way into their circle. But that's also what's so great about Ireland. Unlike Americans who (in a very general sense) I feel can often be really suspicious of meeting new people and accepting new acquaintences from out the blue, the Irish I've met so far have been pretty welcoming and easy to get on with. And then again, I've been told that's also a generalization, and could just be because I'm American and foreign and "interesting" and all that. Probably there's some truth there, but I also think there is some overall cultural friendliness to the Irish. For instance, on the cliff walk, I could tell immediately the locals, who would smile and say good morning and literally tip their hats as they let me pass; from the tourists, who would all but push me into the sea if I had to wedge through them to get by as they tried to take what was surely their 503852094904th group photo of the day. When Irish people thank you, they say "thanks a million," when they apologize, it's excessive and profuse; when they have to sit next to you on the train, they ask very politely if you're alright with it.
Probably the one example that encapsulates why I have cottoned so well to the Irish was the early morning train I was taking to Cork. Everyone seemed already to be in a good mood, which I found interesting already since Irish people hate getting up early, and it was a 7am train. I assumed their good cheer was due to the fact that this incredibly luxurious train cost less than a moderate dinner out and there was a food and coffee trolley and free internet and a gorgeous countryside to look on. Aside from the general good vibes, across from me on the other side of the aisle there was an older man reading a paper, very well dressed, but nearly you might say stuffy looking. At the first stop the train made, two younger girls got on, probably about 14, wearing hoodies and sweatpants, loud music bleeding through their headphones and as they sat down across from this man they immediately hijacked the shared table between them with magazines and soda bottles, and started rolling their own cigarettes. They were talking loudly and punching each other in the arms and I was sure this quiet, reading man would at least let loose an eye roll or a sigh or some other small sign of displeasure. But somehow, probably within about 5 minutes, the three of them were laughing and talking about this and that, and getting on like they were family. It was amazing to me, not only necessarily that they would find some common topics about which to talk for so long, but that a conversation between them had been sparked at all. I always think about that now when I'm sitting next to someone on the train, or standing next to someone at a bar, or behind someone in a queue and suddenly we're chatting, and how that has never really applied back in the States. Maybe every so often, but here it seems to happen just about every day, and I find myself doing it now too, and find that it makes me genuinely a lot happier to feel free enough to just be nice and friendly and welcoming without it being weird. Of course, not everyone is friendly, or sometimes the opposite and they're overly-friendly... and it's not ubiquitous that everyone wants a chat or is in an especially sunny mood. But on the whole I'd say that the culture seems to have more of an open-door policy in a more-the-merrier type of fashion, and I think so far it's fair to say I probably picked a good country to hike it out on my own.
