Giant Steps to Dublin: An Introduction

I’ve never quite appreciated Bloomington nights like this one. Nobody is making sounds and the wild streets are empty. The stars are out, and their light is different tonight. Usually the streetlamps hide them, but a few have managed to cut through. The moon is dark, very dark, so difficult to see I almost missed it. The bugs and small animal noises aren’t annoying tonight, they’re quite comforting and familiar. One last summer night before I fly to Dublin.

Half a year in the making and all the forms and doctor appointments and financial deadlines are behind me. The flights are set and the planes are waiting for me in the cool runways, or perhaps in the cool sky before they meet with me tomorrow. The butterflies—no, the caterpillars—in my stomach keep me awake. I stopped worrying about the frantic logistics some time ago; everything is ready, and so am I.

For months I’ve been congratulated and awed over for this opportunity. “You are so lucky,” they often say, and I often agree. But the talking is over and I’m excited to be only a day away from leaving. The whole process has felt like the road to El Dorado: would I ever actually make it there? The semester was no help either, dragging by like a car on a downhill with spiked tires and no breaks, consistent but far too slow. Since completing finals my routine has slowed into a leisurely and boring daily aimlessness. Relaxation and little responsibility with an abundance of time is fine, but it’s made for a rather uneventful month. It’s hard to fathom that tomorrow is the day when the highlight of my college career begins.

My goal in Dublin is to be a sponge. A metaphorical sponge, though I will probably feel like a real one on rainy days. I’ll be soaking up as much experience I can, seeing as many people, places, strange foods and drinks, and events as I can. I’m a musician, so I hope to spend as much time learning about Irish musical tradition and blogging about it. Maybe I will meet Hurdy Gurdy man somewhere who will show me how to play, or some Gaelic singers to teach me all the strange and historic folk songs, or just a tunnel busker who will sing with me. Six weeks in Dublin is little time, yet I hope it will be enough to fill my head and this blog with at least a sliver of the Irish experience. I look forward to documenting what I can and have some fun along the way.