I Look Backwards and Forwards Simultaneously

There are only really two things that will consistently make me homesick: when I am sick and there is no one willing to drop everything they are doing and come make me soup, and walking into my empty apartment after my parents have driven away and realizing that I am once again required to be a capable and responsible adult that cooks their own food and does their own laundry. Right now is the latter of these times. Despite the fact that I have about 8,000 words of essays to write in about four days, I couldn't help but sit in my room for a minute amongst the flood of unfolded clean laundry peppered with pieces of dirty laundry and feel a little sorry for myself. I always feel silly when I get homesick, as if it shouldn't be allowed since I am a strong-independent-woman-who-don't-need-no-parents, but then I remember that that isn't true and that being homesick is perfectly normal. So then I blog about it of course.

The thing that makes each goodbye harder and harder than the last is the constant reminder that they will become fewer and farther between. This one in particular seems to sting a little extra because I know that the next time I come home it won't be to stay. The end of my alternate life here looms closer and closer and threatens to pounce on me when I have my head buried in homework and travel plans. It comes in the form of nagging emails from USC reminding me that I am supposed to be coming in for advisement before I register for next year's classes (yup, let me just book that flight real quick...). It comes in the form of plane tickets that a friend and I have bought that will take me away from this country in only two month's time. It comes in the Hebrew I have to learn for my brother's Bar Mitzvah immediately upon my return to the states. It comes in the sudden rush to find internships and jobs for the summer, which in turn reminds me of my impending graduation and "real life." It is times like these in my empty apartment when I become so overwhelmed by everything I have to do that I throw everything aside and eat cookies until I calm down. (Current cookie of choice: Thin Mints, brought over my one loving and devoted mother.)

Sometimes all I want is to be back in elementary school where people didn't raise their eyebrows at you or laugh when you told them that you were going to be an actress when you grew up. I want to lie in the sun on my living room floor with a book about little kids going on adventures and not worry about the fact that I have to somehow construct a meal out of rice cakes and dry weetabix. I don't want to keep track of all the medicine I am supposed to take every day and I don't want to worry about getting stranded in the middle of Italy without a word of Italian in my arsenal. I just want to lay there, covered in dog hair, warm and cozy in that little patch of sun on the hardwood floor, completely oblivious to the  immensity of the universe.

Going home means leaving home again, maybe for good. (Although I did mention the whole actress thing... who knows I could be back in my parents house before I know it!) I am not sure I am ready for that next step in my life. I don't want my permanent address to change yet. This is more than a new chapter, it is like a whole new book in the series. For someone who gets nostalgic when they have to start using a new deodorant scent, the thought of so much change is more than a little intimidating.

I Continue to Run Away to the Hills to Avoid Schoolwork

Since being here, I have done a lot of hiking and exploring and trudging across peat bogs. This will come as no surprise to anyone who has the pleasure (or maybe misfortune) of being my friend on facebook, and is thus privvy to the hundreds of photos of the Irish countryside that I post, despite the fact that after a while it all looks pretty much the same. It is all devastatingly and horrendously beautiful yes, but I understand that after a while people might get sick of ridiculously scenic mountains over and over and over again.

Hiking in the Maamturks in county Galway (So pretty!)

Recess, County Galway (Such vivid colors!)

Mount Errigal in County Donegal (Just devine!)

The Twelve Bens, Connemara National Park (Does Maddy have any friends?)

After spending the past two and a half years in the center of a smoggy, dirty, not to mention sometimes dangerous city, it is an incredible relief to hike in the fresh air and natural wildlife. I joined the Mountaineering Club here at NUIG, which has been a fantastic way to introduce me to the hills of Connemara, and perhaps more importantly, the Irish way of hiking. Unlike other hiking trips I have done in the past that generally revolve around following a trail of some sort, hiking in Connemara essentially requires a pair of good hiking boots, and maybe a map and a compass if you want to be sure you aren't lost and wandering for the rest of your life. This is ideal if you love wet boots, clambering over rocks, and too-close-for-comfort encounters with sheep, which luckily enough I do. I still find it amusing that as we make our way across the hills and up the mountains that we have to stop every so often and hoist ourselves over barbed wire fences that are ostensibly separating one person's land from another's. In some places small ladders have been built to make this easier, while in others there isn't much more than a tiny step, a ratty old shirt tied around the barbs, or nothing at all. (This has lead to some very close calls in the crotch department as you can imagine.)

There isn't really a feeling in the world that compares to the sense of accomplishment you get when you have reached the summit of some mountain and you look out across the great wide world in front of you. I always think to myself, this must be how Mufasa feels every time he stands out on Pride Rock and surveys his kingdom. Yes, I might be human and american and not actually the queen of Connemara, but for those few seconds I own the land.

Katarina looks out upon the kingdom she will inherit when I am trampled by wildebeest

I find it mildly upsetting that despite the fact that I have spent the last two and a half years of my life only a short drive away from very hikable mountains, I have spent very little time actually hiking them. To be fair, a good year of that was spent with a barely functioning right knee, which makes walking up and down hills (and at all really) quite difficult. (Coming soon: a love poem to my orthopedic surgeon.) As the end of my time here looms closer and closer in the future, I have realized that there is no reason that I can't continue this whole theme of wilderness exploration and adventure in my own country. I didn't really make any New Years resolutions this year due to the fact that New Years Day was spent frantically stuffing everything I could into a suitcase and leaving for a foreign country, but I can make Post-Study Abroad Resolutions, and my first one is this: Every month (at the very least) I will explore somewhere completely new in the wilds of the US. Be this through road trips, hiking, biking, backpacking, it doesn't matter, but just because I am will be home doesn't mean I have to stop having adventures. Any and all are welcome to join me on this endeavor.

In other news, I am about to be hit by an entire semester's work of homework, so you know what that means: I will be writing on this blog much more frequently! In fact I am sitting in the library as I type this now, looking out over one of the most beautiful days I have seen since being in Galway and thinking that maybe I can procrastinate a little bit more.

Also I don't think the people around me appreciate my noisy banana chips. 

Until next time.