Two Weeks

I've gotten so used to traveling that it feels like nothing else is behind or ahead of me. When I left London, the two months seemed sooooo long, the end so far away that I could not even guess. But as always, the nights passed even faster than the days, the landscapes passed by, the cities had other names. But now the end is more than guessable. Two weeks from today I will be at home. In my old room, full of my stuff that I haven't really paid attention to since I moved out. And of course, homesickness is just turning into wanderlust.

The most surprising thing about my journey is probably the continuity with which I blogged. But it's always nice when my friends and family know that I'm still alive and not completely lost in the area (only happened two or three times while hiking). And it was, and still is, a good feeling to remind myself again of everything that happened. The blog has become my open diary, which I fill with impressions, feelings and pictures.

When I posted the last blog, I was in Glasgow, my last stop in Scotland. The hostel was a huge hulk and there were 13 other people sleeping in the room with me. No, I didn't get any sleep because at what felt like every hour of the night someone was thinking he or she needed to go to the bathroom, go out, or go back. The only advantage was that in the morning, when everyone was out, I just slept on and the room was empty. This also allowed me to change in the room after the first night. Well, maybe I shouldn't have done that right in front of the window. Even as I put on my jeans, I heard shouting and noise from outside, but naive and gullible as I am, I didn't look outside. It wasn't until I took off my shirt (no, I didn't have anything underneath), and the noise from outside completely escalated, that I turned around and looked outside. That was mistake number two. About 12 construction workers, who had a clear view into the room from scaffolding on the building across the street, were glaring at me, bawling, whistling, and banging on the railing. Yes, they waved at their buddies so they could get a bit of the view, too. If the darkest red didn't exist, I would have created it with my face color at that moment. With one step, I saved myself into the shadows where the construction workers couldn't see me. Definitely a start to the day I don't need again.

Apart from the construction workers in the morning, Glasgow was really nice. I knew a lot of things already because my sister did her Erasmus in the city back then. I visited the women's library, one of about 70 in the world, talked to the librarian and browsed the shelves. Then I went to an ancient cemetery on a hill, from which I had a beautiful view over the city.

The next day I took the ferry to Belfast. It took me a lot of effort to get on that thing. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's boats and bridges. But the ride went by pretty fast, thank goodness.

Belfast is one of those cities that seemed very underrated to me. I didn't really have any expectations, but I liked the city incredibly much. There is street art on every other house wall, and it's this kind of huge graffiti that looks more like paintings, created with detail and love. You could feel the Irish history in almost every corner. I was never quite aware of what partition had done to the country and how much people despised the UK. Most of the street art was political, asking people to fight for a reunited Ireland.

The hostel in Belfast was relatively comfortable, with two Italians and a Canadian in the room with me. Before my last night, a Frenchman and some other guy moved into the bed below me. The French guy was really nice, just unfortunately both guys were snorers. At some point I'm going to start a petition for snoring rooms in hostels. While the French guy snored fairly constantly, the guy below me was not only incredibly loud, but moved around so much that I almost fell out of bed at night. I started something like a cold war, every time he started snoring I would shake the bed, wake him up and he would stop. Only then he was pissed off by the snoring Frenchman, until he took my shoes, and threw them at the other guy. God, who throws shoes at other people at night?!

After Belfast, absolute paradise awaited me: Derry. Not necessarily because Derry is such a great city, no, I was in an Airbnb. No snoring guys, no one throwing shoes and no gawkers outside the window. Just me, alone in a big bed, and no one else to bother me. I'd nearly forgotten what privacy felt like.

I went on to Sligo, where I met a German in the Lidl, with whom I went in the evening to the pub. It's exactly these random and spontaneous encounters that make traveling for me. You never know who you will meet in which places. I also have very positive memories of Sligo, a sweet little town with a river and many independent stores.

And the second paradise followed immediately. Also in Ennis I had an Airbnb, because the hostels were all fully booked. It was even better than the first, I had my own bathroom! Pure luxury. The bed was so big I could turn over twice without falling out.

Yesterday, I took the bus to the Cliffs of Moher. I think it was one of the most beautiful places I've been to so far. Deep blue water, lush green meadows, dark grey rocks and snow white whitecaps surrounded the trail. The sun was so strong that I have an imprint of my backpack straps on my back. But defying the heat, I walked along the cliff path. The sea salt smell blew up from time to time. The sky was so clear that you could see the other islands off the coast on the horizon. It was one of those places that takes your breath away with its beauty.

Now I am Cork and realize that Friday will be my last day in Ireland. Tuesday I leave for Dublin, from where I take the ferry (bah) to Wales. Three nights in the National Park, one in Cardiff. Then I have to say goodbye to London for a while. Three nights in Paris and from there I come back to Germany. A strange thought. But I'll probably get used to home just as fast as I got used to traveling.