Post date: May 19, 2018 5:16:25 AM
“Y’know, cars here look like someone attached a box to a sedan hood.”
I turned my gaze from counting cars to look incredulously at Sam, a fellow student at the Black Friary dig site. I started to laugh at the non sequitur that had distracted me from my nervousness. We were walking partners home because, as our friends put it, we were slower than molasses. I noticed a gap in the cars and, steeling my courage, stepped out into the street.
For the summer 2016, I lived and studied abroad in Trim, Ireland participating in an archaeological dig on the Black Friary, a medieval site demolished in the 1750s. I lived with a host family and, for the most part, I walked 3 or more miles a day, 1 and a half into work and 1 and a half home.
The thing about living in a small Irish town is that there are almost no crosswalks. Getting across a street depends on luck and speed. Cars don’t stop for pedestrians and most Irish drivers speed in such a way that made me fear for my safety the few times I rode in a car. The disturbingly small roads might also have contributed to this. My first few days in Ireland were filled with hesitant games of chicken with cars, honking as we cut drivers off in the road, and adrenaline rushes as I ran across the 4 lanes to work.
I never thought that I would master road crossing. Then, I found myself standing in the middle of a road during a downpour waiting to cross 2 more lanes. I wasn’t worried about being hit, because I trusted the drivers that were going around me and I trusted myself to know when I could safely complete my cross. When I finally got home half an hour later, I was soaked through (even though I had on an umbrella and raincoat) and happy with myself for a reason I couldn’t explain. I later realized it had been the first time I crossed the road without fear or doubt.
This walk, even though it could at times be terrifying and unpredictable, became an old friend to me. Every day I would step out of my neighborhood of Abbey View, say hi to the cows at the Echo Gate (where echoes really do happen) and begin my day. My mile and a half of walking took me over a very narrow bridge that could fit a car and maybe a person. Maybe. On both sides of me were ruins of Churches integrated into modern life. Occasionally I would walk past Trim Castle and just marvel at the fact that its existence predates Europe’s permanent settlement in the New World by over 300 years. Ireland was beautiful simply because its history became a part of its landscape. I couldn’t separate history from the nature all around me.
I eventually mastered the etiquette of walking. I learned how to greet the older women walking their dogs, step around the children walking to school, and even give directions to lost individuals. Granted, for that last one I had to use google maps but I at least vaguely knew what the woman was talking about. Soon road crossing became another natural part of my routine.
Confidence in my walking ability led to confidence in my autonomy. When I first arrived in Ireland, I was scared. I didn’t know what to expect or how to handle so much freedom. The idea of spending 2 weeks alone traveling the UK seemed impossible, I even put off finalizing my plans until almost the last minute (side note: don’t do that, it only leads to more stress). And yet, there I was, week 7 of my study abroad catching a flight to Cardiff, Wales. Oh I was nervous, I’ll always be nervous in a new place, but I also trusted my ability to ask for help.
My study abroad taught me about Irish culture, how to properly trowel within a cutting, how to classify finds and features, and (most importantly) how to brew a mean cup of tea. It also taught me how to trust myself, how to project confidence into my actions, and how to recognize that the need to know information far outweighs any awkwardness that might ensue.
Instead of staying holed up in a hostel, I asked locals to recommend places to eat, to see, and how to best travel around. I may have ended up doing cheesy tourist things (like the London double decker bus tours) but I also experienced parts of the world that rarely make the tourist’s shortlist, taking pictures all the while. One of my host families pointed me to the Great Orme Tram. The view at the top of the sea side cliffs in Llandudno was indescribable. It was windy and desolate in a way that made me think I was at the edge of the world; and for a moment I truly felt like I was.
I made sure to get out of my comfort zone and talk to people waiting at the bus stop, to people sitting in the pubs with me, and to cab drivers and waiters, probably the best source of information and conversation. One memorable time was in a pub in Kilcullen where the bartender, Brenda, gave Maddie and me great conversation and great drinks. We were there to see the archaeological site at Dún Ailinne. More importantly, we were there to see the Kilcullen community’s effort to uncover their history. It was a moving site to see archaeology students and locals alike uncovering the past hidden in the hill.
Everyone has a unique perspective on their area of the world. During my six weeks in Trim, I stopped relying on the internet to tell me the best places to visit and instead asked the locals. That’s how most of the dig students ended up at Fabio's Takeaway at 2 AM eating lasagna and burgers (and having bizarre conversations about zodiac signs). I found myself striking up conversations with strangers, making friends with a couple also on their way to climb Mount Snowdon in Northern Wales. I got into an animated discussion with my cabdriver, Mr. Davies, about the Welsh National Team, who had made it to the semi-finals in the Euro2016 football tournament (I'm still upset they lost to Portugal). I even stopped feeling embarrassed when I committed a social faux pas (like falling down the stairs on a bus). I learned to laugh at my mistakes, knowing that no one would care or if they did, I’d be gone soon anyways.
My independence was hard won, but rewarding. Without my sense of self, I never would have gained a friend while watching Macbeth at the Globe, nor would I have found the best open air markets in each town I visited. I climbed a mountain and found a castle in the hills of Wales. I stopped worrying what others thought and started looking for things to do that I would enjoy. I made mistakes in my travels and during my study abroad, but mistakes are a part of life.
Until I had experienced true freedom, I had never seen mistakes as more than a hindrance. Now, they’re a reminder of what I can do better next time. I know now how the transportation around the UK works and I know where to go if I want an inside opinion on the best sights. I know how to pace myself and exactly how long I can go without food and where to get cheap sandwiches. I know what it’s like to sleep overnight in an airport McDonalds (not fun) and watch the Russian National Team board an airplane ahead of you. I know what it’s like to doubt myself and question if I can really make it through 8 weeks being abroad. I think the fact that I had no choice but to travel is what made me all the more determined to create an unforgettable experience.
I’ve had the best travel experiences and the worst all wrapped up in one summer. From being trapped in airports for 36 hours due to flight cancellations to making new friends and falling in love with a whole new place, traveling only broadened my sense of adventure and my need for the world. I never realized how confining life could be until I had to stay in one place for more than 2 days. Now my feet itch with the need to get out there and find a new adventure. Even though I’ve only been stateside for a few months, I’m already planning my return trip. There is no way I could go back to before Ireland, and I always use my new outlook on life in everyday matters, although I still get confused with crossing the street sometimes. Now that I’ve done my first solo odyssey, I know I have to continue the journey to continue in finding myself. Wisdom doesn’t come with age, but experience. The only way to experience life is to screw up your courage, take that first step, and cross the road.