An un-love story - by Ben

In an effort to do some self mending, I wrote yesterday’s post.  When I woke up today, I read back over it and laughed at how much emotion I was able to feel in such a short amount of time.  I walked downstairs and over a cup of coffee, I discussed the events past with Mr. G. After much discussion, I thought it would be comical to re-write the post from Ben’s perspective.  And this is what happened next.

An un-love story – by Ben

I met this cool chick last night. 

She was pretty hot. Ok no, she was really hot (haha – sorry, I had to).  I got into town pretty late, grabbed a burger and walked into this small bar.  They were one of the only places playing the footy game.  Which is quite surprising, as I thought the Irish were pretty big on sports.  But I guess they’re just fond of drinking.  Which is fine by me too.  The Guinness here does taste much bet…. Oh ya. I was talking about the girl.

So she was cool. We talked for a while and I wasn’t bored. I could see myself hanging w/ her if she lived in my neighborhood. We drank a bunch and I asked her if she wanted to come up for a cup of tea, which she totally fell for – I didn’t know that line still worked.

I had to get on the road early to make it down to Cork in time to catch that show.  I’m really looking forward to seeing the band – the Atlantic Pirates I think they’re called? I thought about giving the girl my phone number but realized the probability of us even being in the same city at the same time again is next to none. 

Now it kind of looks like it’s going to rain.  I should probably leave before.......

... That stupid chick comes back and bothers me and makes some big effing deal about life like she fell in love with me or something.

Ok, so maybe I threw in my own bit there at the end.  But you get the point. 

An un-love story...

My life is like the television series 24.by John Griffith

Pack an entire seasons worth of emotions, stories, details, encounters into one twenty-four hour period and that happens every day.  I’m not saying I frequently find myself in situations where I need to disarm some nuclear bomb in 24 hours – rather, as a traveler, most of the people I meet and situations I find myself in, are fleeting – at best.

I fell in love.

Just like that.  I'm not necessarily a believer in love at first sight, but if it exists, this was it. The night we met, I got stood up.  I was supposed to be on a date with some musician who flaked or forgot me, and in a somewhat disheartening mood, I headed to the pub alone, to sit and drink and watch football. 

by MarthouliIn walks Ben.  Ben was tall, beautiful and – though I rarely double-take – I found myself glancing back at him after initial eye-contact. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then took a seat next to me at the bar.  He wasn't overly forward; didn't strike up a conversation and certainly didn't throw me a cheesy pickup line.  I was chatting with some older men at the bar; some regulars of a genre I find who will exchange a drink for a chance of meaningful conversation in a lonely pub, and nothing more. I opened my body contact a bit to encourage interaction from my new eye candy, but he was polite and never contributed more than a smile or a soft laugh into his pint. So I engaged. I took a social cue from a prior giggle that he was into sports, so I idly asked the bartender for some good sports bar recommendations to watch the Superbowl – which as it turns out, is nearly impossible when not in the US.

Hook.

Naturally, my old men friends took a back seat as I spent the next hour or so engulfed in anything and everything Ben would tell me. Every answer was perfect; a life that fit nearly perfectly with my own.  He had an incredible smile, a gorgeous personality and the most attractive outlook on life I have seen in a while.  Successful (a rarity, I find among those of us who call travel our semi-full-time lifestyle choice), educated, sociable. 

Hooked.

From here, our romance was typical.  We went to bars, grabbed food, made mutual friends.  We gradually shifted our conversations from sports and the weather to our families, religion, future plans.  But there were still no red flags. Our chemistry was perfect; our conversations insanely fluid. He complimented me constantly - which, honestly - is a drug I would recommend to anyone and everyone.  He painted this beautiful picture of our life together.

Our first kiss was epic.  by DeeyhordeeBeing an avid watcher of Dawson’s Creek growing up, I’d always envisioned my first kiss with the right guy to involve some sort of fight, makeup, rain drenched hair and a down-right good guy. This was pretty much that – which I imagine is quite easier to achieve with the constant raininess in Ireland – I digress.

There were obviously many kisses to follow – most of them not involving any rain at all.  There was a lot of hand-holding, hours of cuddling in front of the tv and just enough bickering to keep things interesting. Ben loved my hair – which happens to be one my loves as well.  He was constantly messing with it, brushing it from my face, playfully pulling it, bothering me by running his hands all through it and messing up my perfect ponytail or greasing it up with his amazingly perfect hands.

We had found this perfect asymmetry; two completely separate and windy roads that somehow converged at this strange moment in an Irish pub and then continued on an even windier path but side by side. There was nothing normal about the relationship, but then again, there was really nothing normal about either of our lives to begin with. We slept we woke, we breathed, we kissed; that was all that mattered.

by xrrrBut somewhere along the way, our paths unhooked.

Almost as fast as it began.  We drifted a bit.  The conversations ceased to be as dynamic – the long pauses became more prevalent. But there were hints of normalcy that brought us both back.  We would recognize them, hold each other tightly, sigh loudly and think of ways to make it work.  Could it work?  Is it possible for two completely different lives to actually converge without splitting up again and wandering back into familiarity?

As we watched the sun rise over Galway Bay, Ben started packing his bag. It was inevitable. I wasn't expecting anything different. But then again, I hadn't expected to fall this hard either.

Just like that, you're leaving?

Yes.

And that was it. I packed up my own belongings and walked towards the door.  Ben stopped me and stalled a bit. Kisses and more stalling.  He started to say something.

Maybe, I could... Never mind.

But I knew at this point that stalling was just going to make it harder for both of us to split the road back up on our own way. So I gave him one last kiss and left.

I sat that whole day down by theGalway Bay sea where the Corrib river meets Galway Bay and watched the tide roll in and out.  I watched the birds flutter about and the tourists walk around with their cameras, hoping that I'd be in the right place if he decided to change his mind. I knew the likelihood of just that happening and it was not in my favor, but I didn't want to chance it. After all, I could modify my plans, change a couple plane tickets here and there, meet up in a couple months.  You could stay a couple days longer, make some changes to your trip.  

Less than 24 hours before, I hadn't even known this character. 

And just like that, I remembered this cycle.  It had seemed vaguely familiar before, but now the pattern was clear; this hook and release.

It had happened before, and it would happen again.  Antonio broke my heart in Paris.  He was the first of my travel loves. I was not his first though, and we all know how well that usually ends.  Then there was Neil; he stuck around a bit, but ultimately, left me for Egypt – I can't compete with Egypt. Steve was the first one I thought might actually work.  He did change his plans for me – but only once. He left me in Prague. Then finally Thomas.  He stayed in my life for a while – virtually at least – but eventually I drifted. As one of us usually does.

No, Ben wasn't my first, and he certainly wouldn't be my last.  I just hadn't formed that bond in a while – as my last long-term trip was over 2 years ago – I'd almost forgotten what it was like. That doesn't mean that the feelings weren't real.  They were. But I find that as travelers, we are able to open up our hearts quicker, and close them back up quicker.  When you are constantly moving, it's difficult to find anyone who catches your attention for longer than lets-make-out-in-a-bar.  So when we find that, I think we're capable of allowing the emotions to run their course quicker.  A sort of micro-relationship, if you will.

In a couple weeks, I'll be in a new town, a new country, even.  I'll fall again, I'm sure of that.

Walking Around Galway City

One of the first activities one partakes in upon entering a new city is to find the closest grocery store to your dwelling and stock up.  What, not everyone is thinking about food 90% of the time? Hmm.  Well, regardless, when you move to a new city, it takes a couple of days to get your bearings.  My first night in town, Mr. Activism invited me out to have drinks with some of his friends.  We walked all over Western Galway City and hopped into several bars including the famous Róisín Dubh, the Salt House and a couple other places I fail to remember.  After spending the night walking around the (very) small part of town we frequent, I honestly thought I had my orientation down pretty well.

Ya, not so much.

I asked Mr. G for the closest major grocery store which is the Tesco up in the Galway Shopping Center which is about  2.5 mile walk from my house.  In addition the boys thought that they would throw in free delivery on groceries over a certain amount so I could walk there, shop and have the stuff meet me back at home.  Excellent!

Quay Street - Galway CitySo I set off walking with the directions to walk straight up a certain road and the store on my right. I started walking.  I walked through city centre, down past the Galway Cathedral (where I’ve been going to church every week) past a really cool old cemetery and down some long suburban streets.  After about 2 hours, I started to think I’d walked WAY to far, but I kept seeing small glimpses of civilization just beyond the hill, so I pressed on.  And then town ended.  I had effectively walked from the most Western point of Galway (Salthill, where I live) to the most Eastern point, almost to the airport.  So I turned left hoping to turn back around and walk back on a different street, sure that I missed the store by a couple blocks, only the street I turned onto gradually looped all the way around Northern Galway.  As soon as I realized my mistake, I turned back towards town ONE street before the Tesco (awesome) and walked back to city centre before finding some wifi and refreshing the Google map on my iPhone.

I finally arrived at the Tesco only to find that they do deliver, but only on online orders (you mean I could have shopped from my bed and avoided this mess?).  So I tucked my tail between my legs and dragged my sore feet back to the house and the market less than two blocks from my house. 

Lesson learned: don’t be cocky about your bearings in a new place.

Second lesson learned: Grocery shop from your bed.

Third lesson learned: Galway is a TINY city.  I walked from one end to the other.  WALKED.

So if you ever come to Galway.  Do not worry about public transportation, money for taxis or renting a bike.  You will be just fine walking around town.  

View All of my photos from Galway on Flickr

Setting the Scene (Part 2): Galway, Ireland

So yesterday I briefed you about my location here in Salthill, Galway.  Today I will dive a bit deeper into my living situation and then I promise, I'll get to all of the lovely things to do out here in Galway.  Because there are PLENTY of great things to do besides sit at home at my house :)

My roommates are… well… different.  Don't get me wrong, these boys are so nice and completely harmless, but I'm in a whole different world.  I saw an ad in my Nat Geo Traveler (thanks for sending that daddy!) for Texas that said "Texas, it's like a whole 'nother country." Ya.  I kinda feel like that, but times 100. I found this apartment on gumtree.ie which is like a smaller version of craigslist for Ireland.  They don’t even have a site for Galway, but I found this listing while I was looking in Cork.  I’m subletting my room from Our attached house - I have the top two left windowsa guy who is studying yoga in India for a couple months.  I got to spend some limited time with the previous occupier of my room when I arrived and he was nice enough.  There are 5 bedrooms in the house and I share them with 4 insanely… well… insane boys.

Mr. G, as we’ll call him, initially was the most outgoing and nicest roommate.  He facebook friended me before I moved in, made an effort to get to know me.  It was refreshing. He is about as opposite of me as humanely possible.  We agree on nothing except the strangeness of our friendship. Mr. G downloads everything he finds on the internet in case it “goes away” someday and stores it in harddrives in his room.  He watches conspiracy theory documentaries, stopped drinking a brand of smoothie because Cocacola bought 10% share (something about large corporation corruption), yells at me for forgetting to turn my space heater off (for wasting energy) and finds the fact that I like shooting guns appalling. He makes me coffee every morning, we argue talk for hours, and I really like him.  In addition, I know for a fact that he will read this, and he will laugh and we’ll laugh and then he’ll make fun of me and it will be over.  It’s great.

Roommate #2 is Mr. Activism. Mr. Activism has more energy than a windup doll.  He kind of reminds me of a train that’s heading up a hill… It’s like he keeps going against the grain, pushing and pushing and losing momentum and it looks like he might just collapse and fall back down the hill, but he hits the top and then goes barreling down the other side at lightning speed.  Mr. Activism once camped outside a Shell facility north of here for SIX MONTHS to protest off-shore drilling. SIX. MONTHS.  This shitz for real. He has WILD red hair and is tall and lanky.  He’s actually from Florida originally but he’s lived here for 5 or 6 years. The kid is bat-shit crazy.  To the t.  Mr. Activism and I got off on a great foot and have spent some great nights chatting.  He taught me how to chop wood also, which rocks. 

Roommate #3 is Jesus – and named so ONLY because he looks just like him.  No seriously… he looks so much like Jesus that he actually gets CAST as Jesus in advertising campaigns.  He showed me a photo of him in an ad where he played Jesus in the last supper painting. He also plays an extra in pretty much every single Irish/Scottish/British war movie ever.  I saw pictures of him dressed in costume from King Arthur the other day; sword and all. Anyway, Jesus has 5 children and three baby-mommas in two countries. He’s in his 40’s and still lives in 1965 – looks, ideals, lack of responsibility.  He’s from California and is trying to go back, but they won’t let him back in the states because he has 18 YEARS of outstanding child support. EIGHTEEN YEARS. Aka an entire human’s childlife. Jesus and I agree on nothing (I guess I’m the anomaly in this house) but we also don’t agree on disagreeing. 

Quirky Joe has lived in the room next to mine since I’ve lived here, but he just moved out.  Quirky Joe was quiet and nice.  He’s a music teacher and had lessons here occasionally, but other than that, I rarely bumped into him.  He has a son, who is fantastic.  He established quickly that I was clearly the coolest person in the house and has enlisted me to help him write a letter to his girlfriend (he’s 6).  He is in love and bought her flowers AND chocolate for Valentine’s day.  This kid’s got the right idea. 

Andrea just moved in a couple of days ago and replaced Quirky Joe + Kid.  Andrea is so sweet, from Switzerland, and such a nice presence in the house.  Her boyfriend lives in Galway and she moved up here to be with him for a bit and see how things go.  She has been such a good girl ally and is so easy to live with.  I don’t know her that well yet but know she’s going to be a great addition to the house.

So that’s my living situation.  We’re a mess. But we’re starting to be a rather well functioning family.  None of the boys have jobs, so we are home all day together.   There is always someone to talk to, someone to help you start a fire in the fireplace or someone to take a walk down to the beach with.  Mr. G is getting his phD and therefore is not broke nor hopeless.  Mr. Activism and Jesus however, are pretty much all over the place.  They don’t buy much of anything.  Rent is not easy to come by and it’s been a real eye opening experience to live with them having never come from a situation where I really didn’t have enough money to get food, or pay rent.  We talk about things most people never get around to and the emotion around here is really raw. 

by rrogers_vfxMr. Activism and Jesus dumpster dive to get food.  Now, before you judge. Ok no… go ahead. So basically, for whatever reason, the laws for expiring food in Ireland are strange.  Grocery stores basically throw anything away a few days before it expires.  Also anything that has been damaged gets tossed.  So the boys take their big backpacks every couple of days and head to the really nice grocery store in town and get food.  And the shit they come home with is incredible.  They will come home with gallons and gallons of milk, juice, cartons of eggs.  They’ll bring home tightly sealed containers with fruit, chopped veggies, cheese, even steaks.  And everything they get is still sealed in the package.  It’s amazing.  I doubt everything is this clean in the states, but I am just amazed by what they’ll come back with. Last night they went to a grocery store much like whole foods and picked me up a whole bunch of makeup still in the packages and a couple of pairs of gloves – which considering the fact I’m not 100% warmed up to actually eating food out of a dumpster, was a really sweet gesture.

All of the boys are a part of this thing called a Social Space which is basically like a community center but with no charity or second agenda behind it.  It’s kind of like a free place to come and share and hang out and it’s all a sort of like free expression and anarchism and whatever.  The space is currently being moved to a new building so I don’t actually get to see it in action.  However, we are housing much of the furniture and junk from the space at our house right now, while they’re in lingo.  So our house looks about as organized as our personalities do.

Hopefully this gives you a decent idea of what kind of crazy canvas I’m working with right now.

Setting the Scene: Galway, Ireland

Galway is such a lovely city.  I feel so at home here and have been so grateful to have all of the experiences I’ve had since I’ve been here. 

That being said.  I am COMPLETELY in another world.  This town is so different from the few cities I’ve visited on the East Coast of Ireland.  I honestly sometimes doubt that I’m in the same country.

South Park, Galway, IrelandGalway City is a small 70,000 person city in Galway County which is on the far West coast of Ireland straight across from Dublin (about 2.5 hours in the car).  Irish is the language here and most people speak it to some extent.  Most of the street signs are in both Irish and English and many restaurants, coffee shops and pubs are Irish exclusively.  Meaning signs, language, menus are all exclusively in Irish.  At the risk of sounding like a complete retard, I honestly had no idea Irish was still this much alive. 

I remember sitting on a bus in Dublin when I was there a couple of years ago and noticing some old women speaking the language.  I laughed and wondered what remote part of the country they were from.  Now – I know.

Galway is also known as a hippie city.  It’s got an incredibly laid back vibe.  Everyone walks or bikes everywhere.  There are street musicians at every turn playing everything from the Pipes to a giant African drum.  Everyone seems to know everyone; it’s difficult even for me to walk down the street without seeing someone I know or have at least seen/met before. Galway’s also a huge university town with two large universities within city limits so there are hoards of young people – which is great.

I live in Salthill, which is a My street in Salthill, Galway, Irelandsuburb of Galway City.  It’s known as the sort of beachy-vacation home area of Galway.  I live up on this hill with a park next to me.  My bedroom is on the second story and looks out over Galway Bay.  I can see the Cliffs of Moher, the Aran Islands and the beach from my bed.  It’s amazing. Salthill has its own set of shops, stores, restaurants and pubs; so it’s easy to stay really close to home and not miss a thing.  It’s about a 20 minute walk for me down the beachfront “Prom” to city center or about a 5 minute bus ride.  Not too shabby.

The park next to my house always has people in it.  There are youth teams who hold soccer practice, people who come to throw a tennis ball for their dog and groups of teenagers lurking in the corners of the big walls that outline it smoking and drinking and well… being teenagers. It’s a really lovely green park and it’s perfect that it slopes up just in time to hit the deep blue water of Galway Bay. My window faces West towards the park and then ocean and every night I get to watch amazing sunsets off the ocean.  I really have it pretty good. 

Sunset on the ocean, from my bedroomI’ll get into my roommates more later, but our living situation is interesting.  I live with 4.5 boys (Arian is 6 so he’s only .5 a person).  They are all about as different from me as possible.  We disagree on mostly everything and sometimes I feel like I’m an exhibit in some crazy museum about conservative American rednecks. Our house is big though and quite wonderful.  All of our different backgrounds and opinions really add to  the uniqueness of this city, and I’m not sure I would trade any of it.