Part two, the final portion of my trip to Westport, is detailed below. In case you missed part one, you can catch it here.
I was given a walking stick and a cardboard sign and instructed to hitchhike to Croagh Patrick; it was easy and everyone did it. I found myself a little wary of the idea, not because of the possible safety concerns, but for a weird fear of asking a stranger for a favor. Continue reading
I’ve broken up this narrative of my trip into two separate entries for length’s sake; it turned out to be much longer and more detailed than I thought it would be when I started typing. Part 1 today, part 2 tomorrow — it’s already written so this won’t turn out to be another of my (in)famous cliffhangers. Continue reading
I find life easiest when it’s compartmentalized. That’s why I like New Year’s so much. Not for the parties or the fanfare, but for the symbolic closing of a chapter and the idea that one can start completely fresh. Continue reading
I don’t get homesick very often. Not even the times I spent Christmas away from family and friends, staying at a hostel alone, did I have moments when felt sad or lonely. But this past weekend, it hit me full force for the first time in a long time. Continue reading
At the risk of sounding like Alanis Morissette, life has a funny way of turning around when it seems like everything has gone absolutely down the crapper. Continue reading
