mickan in world

After thirty minutes in the air we hear a buzz in the speakers of the plane and the capten announces that "the plane is a bit broken" so we'll have to go back to Arlanda. Scary, but Fia and I clung to eachother and the trip back was eventless. After waiting two hours in the airport the capten announces that indeed the plane is broken, but it doesn't matter: we have back-up. And we leave. Before take-off they swap the hole crew and capten though. We are suspicious but atleast on our way.

 One night in Dublin. Staying in Isaaks hostel, going for a pint in Doyle's. Feeling happy and light and going to bed early. All the anticipation got to us and we slept deep and long.

After being a bit puzzled over where to go for our little two-day holiday we basicaly just set up a few requests. We wanted small (but not too small), close (but not too close), charachteristic and of course a desent pub life. One town that fit the description was Killkenny and so that's where we went.

We arrived in the afternoon and checked into our cozy hostel. Small, family run and with two precious dogs; what more can you ask? We procedeed to visit the famous castle and got a very interesting guided tour. The castle park was lovely and the castle smashingly posh. We could see ourselves living there any day.

After a pasta dinner we asked around and found out that Andrew Ryan's was the place to go for a pint in Killkenny. Indeed that wasn't easy to know, there were a few pubs to choose from. Once there we instantly got talking to the (very cute) bartender, with whom both me and Fia fell madly in love with after about three seconds (not really but why not?), and he asked us where we were from. Upon answering the question we found out that there was one other Swedish girl living in Killkenny and that she was the bartenders best friend.
Five minutes later I felt a tap on my shoulder and there was a blond haired, blue eyed girl, asking us if we might be the newly arrived Swedes. Eva turned out to be a real tresaure and we got introduced to most of the people in the bar. As the night fell we almost grew into locals at Andrew Ryan's and we even got our picture taken to be posted with the other locals in the ceiling over the bar.

There was a band playing; "The Swinging Bluecats" and on moving closer to the music we stumbled over two guys from Wicklow to whom we got talking. One of them was living in Killkenny so when the pub closed they took us with to the local night club and we danced the night a way. Had a real good time and I swear we were the last to bed in Killkenny that Tuesday night.

Wednesday we were up early, not voluntarily but because our roommates were. Noisy blokes, but nice. The sun was shining so we took a power walk around Killkenny and enjoyed the sunshine. The follow-up to that bit of exercise was climbing up in the tower of St. Candice's Catherdral and looking out over the city.

We had arranged to meet the Wicklow boys at 12 to go to the famous caves situated about 10km from Killkenny. Luckily for us they had a car so we saved bith money and effort. We got the tour of the caves, which was really interesting. We had a lovely guide, Michael, and learnt a lot about stones and caves in general. Also we learnt that the Vikings apperantly massacred a whole lot of poor Irish paysants in the cave and we got a bit of the blame for that; being the only Scandinavians and all.

the evening was spent in good company at Andrew Ryan's and with the fire place in the Pumphouse with the two Wicklow guys. I was a pleasant evening.

Now we're back in Dublin. Happy with our little holiday. Fia is looking at rooms on daft.ie and I'm excited about moving into my room tomorrow. Tonoght's Thursday, guess where we're going. Can't wait to spend another Thursday at the Celt!

I love you.

Eventhough I was a bit nerveuse about the new endeavours it meant; going to Dublin and dealing with the whole lodging issue, I couldn't help feeling a slight excitement when I began packing the old back-pack again. I love the packing, the preparations; even for a short trip. It's therapeutical to pack, to picture the voyage and the new situations put before you; because travelling is all about one word: New. And this was.

Also I love a trip on short notice. The "just grab your gear and let's go"-attitude is something I'd love to allow myself to practice more often. I guess life gets in the way most of the times.

You know the story of the following few hours. Car, check-in, board, newspaper-book-Mp3, arrive, bags, exit, bus. Dublin. And I'm there.

Interlude:
Why did I go to Dublin?
Compicated question. The answer could be: Because I didn't have a room. It wasn't quite as simple as that though. I also wanted to know where I wanted to live and with who. Something that I din't know when my flight took off from Arlanda Airport.
I had a room in mind; my friend Regine is moving back to Switzerland and her room became availiable. I basically just had to seal the deal with her room mates. But unforseen events occured...

I arrived in style. Self awarely displaying all the small flags on my stuffed back-pack. Feeling cool and back-packer like for the first time since back from Asia (I've missed it!). Met up with Regine outside my hostel (old time favourite: Oliver St. John's Gogartry), and left my bag. We went for a bite to eat and some catching up; as everytime we meet we marvel at how much alike we are. We get along so well eventhough we haven't seen eachother since December.

After a pep talk we went over to her place to check out, what I then thought would be my future room, and to meet up with flat-mate Conal. My meeting/interview with Conal went well (I think) and at that stage I though I had it in the bag, all that remained was to meet up with the other flat-mate Selina.

Naturally Regine and I decided to celebrate our quite unexpected reunion and we did it Dublin-style; hitting the pub. The night began at our all-time favourite and frequently visited and beloved "The Celt". Where once-upon-a-time we actually met. Some memories in that place I tell you. I half expected to see Conor in every corner. Sadly he took off for Germany the same day. Our meeting up will have to wait a while longer.
It proceeded to be a great evening. Making a stop at Doyle's (another favourite) to check out "Dublin's hottest barman" (according to Regine) and ending up on the dance floor in Q-bar, made it a real "Welcome Back!"-party.

The next day, spiced with a throbbing hang-over, turned the events. I had received unexpected information from Trinity Hall (student accomodation) that I got a room in the second round. Something truly unforseen since I had applied and gotten rejected in the first round and  the statement led "Students be adviced, at this point it is wise to start looking for alternative accomodation". Thus I did.
Finding out I had gotten a room in the second round really turned my head.

I faced a very unexpected dilemma: Now I had two rooms instead of none. Which one to pick!?

You trusty readers will have read my previous note on the matter of getting rejected from Trinty Hall. You will remember me saying that I was happy I didn't get a room and that I'd never want to stay in such a "day care"/"kindergarden"- type of place. Well at the time I believed this. I was as sure I Didn't want the room then, as I was sure I Did want it the day before. You following me? I had told myself so many times that I didn't really want the room that I started to belive it. Now, when I got it, I didn't know what I wanted anymore.

Interlude:
Why did I settle for Trinity Hall?
For in the end; that I did. I went to the accomodations office in Trinity College. I went to look at Halls (it's nice). I went online and looked up info and debates on "pro or against staying in Halls". I talked to people. I even asked people I found on Facebook and I began to remember why I had applied in the first place. I made a +/- list comparing Halls and Reginas room. Regine's room won a landslide victory. But Halls had three important + sides that Regine's room lacked:
1. Friends. I will have a ton of friends without the slightest bit of effort.
2. Safety. It's scary to do this. I admit it. This was the safe option.
3. Now or Never. 2nd year students can't applie for Halls unless they've stayed there previously. This is my one and only chance to live campus life. I had to take it.

When all the decition making and practical matters were taken care of I could relax and enjoy being back in Dublin. Me and Regine hung out 24-7 and had a blast. Walking and talking on the ocean walk between Graystone's and Bray; some DART-sightseen. And of course hitting the pub every night and having an absolute blast. Not that I ever forgot; but now I definitely know why I am going back to the Green Isle and Dublin City. Because that's where the craic is!

Happily taking off again; but just to return. Now I'll enjoy my last few days back home.

How do people who aren't into sports coope with life?

Maybe I'm just an adrenaline junky. But there is just nothing to campare to the feeling you get when your team scores the winning goal or when the ref. calls off a winning game. Likewise there is simply nothing that compares to loosing or having a penalty-kick wrongly (isn't it always?) called agains you. But then atleast you're not alone in your misery. Sticking together after a loss, might be miserable at the time, but in the long run it's almost as rewarding as celebrating a victory. But damn, I do hate loosing!

My team won 4-1 Monday. Djurgården is in the top of the league. Suddenly everything is so pretty and bright and even going to work is a joy (I have a fellow supporter across the hall).

How do people who's not into sports survive?
I mean, you can't be in love all the time...

I love eleven sweaty players, blue stripes and a singing, mad crowd.... all the time....

Things I've learnt about myself:

-I am a person who tends to listen very much to my first emotions and act accordingly and before I think.
-I am a person who tends to reason a lot AFTER I've followed my emotions and ends up cursing my first; emotionally guided act.
-I am a person who tends to stress up about things. Not the chilled out type; taking life with a shoulder shrug (I cannot se myself saying things like: "Chiiiiil out, man......", while puffing on a joint). This past year has taught me a lot about this though (*joke: haha).
-Besides all of this I am a reasonably confident person and I trust myself to get where I want to go.

The knowledge about this last statement came to me after this past weekend and it put all the other statements into perspective. No matter how rough it gets I will always trust myself to work it out (even the Irish housing business).

My stomach is (close to) untangled.

It took a weekend. It took getting locked at Jossans moving-in party. It took a dreadful hang-over and a lovely day on the town with my sister (taking care of business I really needed done). It took some sunshine and the company of a very loved friend on a bike around Djurgården. It took a cup of tea and a cinnebun (thanks Andrew for introducing that expression!) in a sunlit café. It took a Saturday night on the sofa with a half-bad movie and half-melted ice-cream. It took a long jog. It took a dinner at grandma's. And I'm there... 

Tomorrow is Monday and I'm back at mind blowingly boring, full-time, office job; but that's okay.

....It also took a hot date in the sun with a crayfish-party introduced yankee... but that's another story (and you'll have to tickle it out of me!).