I am currently in my second month of a study abroad experience in Madrid, Spain. Before I arrived, I thought this semester might be the hardest thing I would ever do. I have navigated a language barrier with exceptionally rudimentary Spanish, I have had to explore a brand new city without the support of a large circle of friends and I have cried about missing home too many times. I have felt outside of myself, like a different person than the one I left in Missouri, and not in the study-abroad-changed-my-life sort of way. More like an I-am-so-exhausted-and-none-of-this-feels-real sort of way. I have decided the best way to cope with this feeling is to act unlike myself. I am normally very cautious and a big planner. So, when my boyfriend suggested a spontaneous trip to Cork, Ireland, I unnaturally said, “Sure.”
We bought the plane tickets, booked a hotel and, four days later, found ourselves in another city.
I made dinner reservations, while waiting in the airport, for that same night. I felt wild. I understand that this may not be as big of a deal for most people, especially students studying abroad who have a tendency to book tickets week-of, but I cannot emphasize enough how important an itinerary is to me. I plan months in advance, especially for a trip. For me, even simple dinner reservations must be planned at least a couple weeks out. I run on lists and schedules. It is my system. I am attached to it. With all that in mind, a spontaneous trip involving airports and checked bags and missing a day of classes made me feel a little dizzy. But, I figured, I have had the great privilege of travelling internationally since I was young, thanks to the efforts of my parents, and I understand how to navigate airports and hotels. I can at least somewhat say that I know what I am doing.
We got off the plane in Cork, and we decided to call an Uber to our hotel. I was feeling confident, like I had finally gained my footing after hours of travel. Unfortunately, I was in for a rude awakening. We got into the car (a Tesla, the most motion-sickness inducing of cars) and the heat was blasting. I began to sweat, and immediately felt sick as the roads twisted and turned in on themselves. On top of that, the Uber driver spouted several conspiracy theories and made a couple of sexist jabs towards me. He talked about how he quit business school to found some sort of start-up business in his house, something to do with Amazon and technology. We told him we were studying abroad in Spain, and he went on a tirade about how awful Spanish culture is. I have felt nothing but welcomed and accommodated by the people in Madrid, and I have no idea what the man was going on about, and I felt disgusted by his further ignorant assertion generalizing Spanish people as “arrogant.” To say the least, by the end of the thirty-minute drive, I was ready to leave Ireland.
I hid in the hotel for most of the evening, my boyfriend trying to coax me out into the open. But I felt nauseous and exhausted, entirely disillusioned. This hiccup in our trip was why I planned everything previously. Hiccups like these can ruin a vacation, and planning prevents hiccups. Or so I had thought. Eventually, I had to leave the dim comfort of the hotel to make our dinner reservations a short walk away at a popular pub. The dinner was delicious, and the staff was so kind. We ordered food with no language barrier for the first time in a month, which was relaxing. We began discussing ideas for the next day over our dessert of sticky toffee pudding, and everything felt a little less daunting.
Over the next few days, we ate a ton of good food, walked around bookshops and enjoyed a morning at the Cork Butter Museum. By the end of the trip, I was sad to leave. I acquired a lot of souvenirs (sorry to my wallet), but by far the most important one was a newfound ability to be flexible. I learned that spontaneity does not necessarily end in disaster.
I cannot say I would plan a trip with such short notice again, but I can say I enjoyed it just this once.