kelhirt

[kelhirt]

The Home Stretch

Showing up in the beautiful, lively Cork brought back many phenomenal memories of the good times it brought us the last time we were there.

 This trip was about living like a true Irish family, which is why we got connected with one of my favorite professors and mentor’s sister, Bree. She picked us up with her daughter, Josie. WE had delicious brekky, bummed around, and went home to Innishannon; a small village about 30 minutes outside the city center. There we met Owen, her husband and their three wild pups, whom we would cuddle for four days. Over this time, we visited a few small towns that we never would have seen if we didn’t have the amazing opportunity to stay with them. West Cork is hard to see without a car, and unless you’re a local, you don’t know where to go. We spent the days on beach walks and sightseeing. They also were filled with puppy cuddles and ice cream stops. 

 We were set to leave for Galway (yay!) in the morning and ended up missing our bus due to some traffic.. Wouldn’t have been bad, but it was cold and rainy. Mads and I carried our luggage into a nearby cafe to figure out switching our tickets and made friends with the barista. He helped us figure out the bus fiasco via phone and made us lattes, which were very nice. Soon after that, we said “screw it” and went to grab some margs and guac at a little Mexican restaurant in an alley; might as well enjoy the day! Our barista friend let us store our stuff at his shop, which was really sweet.  Once we finally got to Galway later that day, the sun was starting to set and we had to take the Bus Eireann to our Air BnB in Salthill, a little town within Galway. We showed up at the address and dug around for the key under the rock where it was supposed to be--nothing. Tried to get into the backyard to see if that is what our host meant--nope. Knocked on the door and creepily looked in the windows to see if our host was there--no one. What the hell!? Thankfully, the neighbor lady just pulled into the driveway next door. This was our answer to a place to sleep! She got out and I asked her about the Air BnB and she replied: “That’s not a BnB; an older man has lived there for years.” All we could do was laugh and try to find more clarification. Turns out, there were two identical neighborhoods with slightly different addresses and the one we were supposed to be at was about a mile away. She offered us a ride, so we loaded into her car and she dropped us off at the RIGHT address in the RIGHT neighborhood. Again, an angel that was sent to us! 

I was so happy to be back in Galway, but was also a bit anxious because it meant I had less than a week left in my travels. The weather turned from sunny and 75 to the dreary Irish weather that is normal, so we took advantage of walks into the city center when it wasn’t pouring out. There, we did what we do best; bop around different shops, relax and chat by the Sparch, and listened to any live music that was on in the pubs or outside. The eve of my birthday was supposed to be a chill night as we were headed to the Galway Horse Races the next day(!) and wanted to be well rested. That plan quickly unraveled as the city’s energy enticed us with bustling streets as many people were in town for the races. AS we strolled, we decided our (very unhealthy) dinner would start with gelato from Murphey’s followed by my favorite place to rip my intestines up: PIZZA NAPOLI! 

Pure bliss, if you can’t tell by my face.

The pub that pulled us in that night was the one that pulled us in two years earlier: The King’s Head. We thought we’d check it out and found that the band was killer! We had to stay for a bit...it was too good to miss out on.  People were in the festival mode, which made for lots of drinks flowing our way, namely Bulmers cider in liter bottles--yikes. The group of visitors we found ourselves tearing up the dance floor with was a group of 6 guys from Dublin, all age ranges. As it was August 2nd, the eve of my 23rd birthday, they were excited to have a more solid reason to party; and that we did. We all were dripping in sweat, cutting a rug right in front of the stage. To top the night off Maddi told the band it was my birthday; they misheard her because they announced a “Happy Birthday” message to Karen Who was turning 22? No, 23? WAIT, WHAT’S MY NAME?  It was a good try anyway. 

The next day brought lovely weather, and thank God because we had a big day ahead of us! After sleeping in, making lunch, and doing wedding planning for Mads, we got dolled up and put on our hats for the Galway Horse Races! If you haven’t picked up on it yet, this was a highlight for me and a huge bucket list cross-off activity. We headed to the city center and waited in line for the bus to take us to the race track. We both felt like celebrities because people were stopping to look and take pictures left and right of everyone all dressed up. The bus was hot as hell, but the crew on it was down for a good time. Some guy in the front yelled, out of nowhere: “Can I get a WHAT-WHAT?” to which the whole bus unquestionably responded with an excited: “WHAT-WHAT!” 

The races were absolutely fantastic! The men and women were dressed to the nines and the hats were something to see. The actual racing was a true thrill. The anticipation of seeing the horses round the first corner, then the second, feeling the vibrations of their hooves working hard to find their place in first, followed by the exhilarating sound of the stampede of muscular and beautiful horses with their jockeys was quite honestly overwhelming. The crowd in the stands and the ones surrounding us by the gate lining the track had the energy of a grand concert. Cheering, yelling, and jumping was something both Mads and I got roped into. Honestly, it was hard not to. The feeling I felt at the races is hard to describe, because I am not a race fanatic by any measure. It was all the variables listed above that stirred extreme excitement in my heart, which led to tears of absolute joy. What a way to spend my 23rd! Oh, and of course I had a Guinness in my hand. 

 A few hours at the track surrounded by so much excitement was all I needed to make me happy. We went home to change and head to the city center to hear some music and enjoy Galway’s event energy. We found some good spots and started with a quaint pub with one live musician who could sing me to sleep every night. Live music is so fantastic and Ireland is full of it! During this time, Maddi and I were approached by two, obviously drunk, Australian men. What happened next was not something I asked for my birthday or welcomed: an unsolicited, truly unfortunate attempt at a strip tease from the surfer dude. I laughed, but don’t think for one second I let it go on for more than 10 seconds after I realized what was happening. We went to a new pub shortly after that. 

The weekend was nice, but I couldn’t help thinking I only had two more days left in my absolute favorite place. We just hung out in town, people watched, browsed a few shops, and ate gelato. Saturday night was our last Hoorah! And we took advantage of the city’s energy once more, made some friends with a group of dudes out to celebrate and we danced the night away, per usual. That and stumbling upon the musician we had seen a few nights prior was the perfect end to a less than logistically perfect trip; one that was absolutely fantastic! The following Monday morning I got up early to catch the Bus Eireann to the bus station, though I had my worries that the bus would be late or not even show up. I had my fair share of these things happening over the past two months, so I had valid reason for worry. Sure enough. 6:45am, I sat waiting for the bus in the cold rain. After 10 minutes of waiting, I picked up my luggage and started off near a gas station to call a taxi, but then, another guardian angel appeared. A man on his way to work in town pulled over and asked if I’d like a ride to the station. I was pretty desperate and he was kind, so I hopped in and had a great conversation with him. Next thing I knew I was holding back tears while giving Colum one last hug as he met me to say goodbye. 

The plane ride home was when I broke down and bawled into my arms on the tray table before I fell asleep. My emotions were intense and I wasn’t ready to come home to be greeted with my grandpa’s funeral and decide on the next journey for myself. It made me feel so much better when I woke up from my nap and the kind Irish couple next to me told me I missed lunch so they grabbed something for me. Another guardian angel! 

The plane rides home and the 7 hour delay really was not a great travel end, but luckily I was on United and wine was free and one of my best friends from college was waiting to pick me up. 

 There it is; the end of my 2 month escapade! After reading through my journal and posting these blogs, a few things became very evident. Tears from every emotion, drinking cider, live music, and increasing my resilience while living out one of my dreams were some of the big markers of my summer abroad. The thing about traveling solo is that you are never alone. The people around you become a part of your story and usually are more than willing to lend you a hand when needed. Connections are made easily, so don’t be afraid to reach out! Travel is scary and hard, but it’s not impossible. It definitely isn’t any scarier than wandering city streets in the US. Whenever and wherever you have the opportunity to travel, do it! Immerse yourself in stunning sights and damn good food. Open your mind to the stories of others; we are all human after all. 

I don’t intend to ever stop seeing weekend trips or free outdoor concerts as big adventures, and I for sure am not done seeing the world; it has shaped me as much as my family upbringing and formal education. 

The amount of gratitude I have for Ireland, Europe, and the people I met it is immeasurable. As cheesy as it sounds, I was able to love spending time by myself again through re-identifying strengths and working on my weaknesses. A summer for growth, adventure, and pushing myself outside of my comfort zone. With all that, need I say that I will be back before I know it?

#ireland girlswhotravel solotravel

[kelhirt]

A few chill weeks with some wild adventures

I flew into the world's smallest international airport when I headed back to Ireland. I was secretly worried that I would get stopped at Customs and sent back to America given my initial appearance weeks earlier. I was paranoid my name was flagged in the system. Hey! You never know! Once I swooped through with an innocent smile, I walked outside to the damp, cool weather and took off with my bags down a path lined by sheep and green fields so I could catch a bus to my next destination; one that left within 10 minutes of my arrival, with poorly written directions to the bus stop from the airport. Picture a 5’ 3’’ blonde girl wearing a school-sized backpack on my back and a smaller bag on my front bobbing up and down with each step I took--that’s it. The bus was a couple minutes late, which for once worked in my favor. I hopped on with no cash and the card machine wasn’t working, so the bus driver gave me a free ride to Tralee, my destination for the night. Tralee: a semi sketchy town, where I stayed in a sketchy hostel, filled with semi sketchy people. Luckily, I had great roomies from Belgium. This wasn't a huge deal because I was taking the first bus north in the morning.

I bummed around Galway for a day when I got back, went to the movies with Colum, the friend who let me basically take over his apartment for the last month. We walked Shop Street after to see some of the art that was being put up for the upcoming Galway Arts Festival; an event I added to my bucket list during my 2016 Ireland study abroad. The following day I hopped on a bus to Sligo, a place I really had no desire to visit based on opinions we got from locals during my previous trip to Ireland. But one of the women I met while staying with Deirdre invited me to stay with her, and she had worked in public health, so I had a great opportunity. Celia had two insanely adorable pups, one that was old and grumpy, Penny, and Bo, who was young and bouncing off the walls, but always up to cuddle with you. During my stay, we went on walks along the coast during sunset or trails near the famous Benbulben every day.

I was able to be part of a planning meeting for an inspirational speaking event she was helping coordinate, learn a ton about her spiritual background, paint some walls, and share meaningful conversation over a glass of white wine every evening. Our workdays welcomed mid-morning breaks for tea with whoever was visiting to help with her backyard or just to relax a bit. Irish brown bread, black tea, and chocolate Digestives were abundant-- and I was not mad about it. I’m so in love with Digestives that my best friend brought me some back from overseas for my Christmas present and I almost cried-- no lie.

In addition to visiting W.B. Yeat’s grave and meeting Celia’s friends, I took off one day to go hike the Queen Maeve trail up Knocknarea. The bus there dropped my off at the trailhead along with two other guys that were planning to hike. We all started walking toward the trail, and of course I wasn’t going to awkwardly follow them, so of course I said “hello” followed by inviting myself to join them, since we were already on the way. One tall Australian (Liam), a writer and poet from Belfast (Matthew), and a short Wisco woman started up the surprisingly steep hill with hardly any silence. At the top, we admired the Queen Maeve Cairn and other tombs surrounding it. The views were amazing, but we started to get hungry and took off down the trail, and to Strandhill, a nearby coastal town. There we enjoyed the (honest to God) BEST seafood chowder. Like most foodie instances on my trips, my mouth still waters when I think about it.

We walked to the beach where Liam took a quick dip in the freezing sea while Matthew and I laughed at him. Following that, we went and got Liam his first Hurley, a wooden stick used in the Irish sport of Hurling. I was so thankful to spend the day with two really great strangers who felt more like brothers in the end. Friday was my last day with Celia and her daughter, so I rode with them to Galway to meet her son and enjoy some great fish ‘n chips, said goodbye, and went right into checking the Galway Arts Festival off of my list. I explored the bustling city then grabbed an Orchard Thieves cider and hung out in the main square listening to a street musician, which was more like a crude comedy show.

The atmosphere was absolutely wonderful, with so much energy and art throughout Galway. That night, I did something that scared the absolute hell out of me and attended a concert all by mysel-e-elf (I hope you sang those last three words like I did. If not, please reread it and do it). Anyway, I grabbed another cider and was front row to see Gavin James, one of my favorite artists! Front row people! I made friends with the girls around me and we sang with him the whole night. And maybe I choked a few tears back because he was even better live and I love him. Maybe.

The Heineken Big Top where I jammed out with my man!

The rest of the weekend I went back to Sligo to dog sit for Celia, as she was at a festival in the midlands. It was a rainy Saturday, so I took the dogs for a walk then made tea and read a book, snuggled up with Bo. His love comforted me when I started to bawl when I finished the book. Tears just happen for me, alright. The whole scene made for the perfect day. Sunday I went to a nearby coffee shop where I was applying for AmeriCorps positions, but got interrupted by two men who wanted to hear about “my life in Germany.” Though I wish I could have told them all about my fabulous German life, I had to let them know I am actually from Wisconsin, which didn’t seem to hinder their conversation.

Benbulbin view from my daily walk.

Bobo and me chillin’ in the sun my last day.

Monday morning I hopped on yet another bus to Dublin. Why? Because my best friend was coming!! I met Maddi at the airport and we spent the day bumming around Dublin, drinking cider and catching up on life before we headed south to Glendalough to stay at a quaint hostel in the Wicklow National Park for the next few days. 

We hiked many miles the first day, some not by choice but because we got a little lost and followed a group of Canadians and Belgians since they seemed to know where they were headed. That was until we found out they were doing the whole Wicklow Way hike; aka The Seven Days’ Trail complete with camping and not going back to the same place for food. Definitely a day for the books as we shared a wrap for lunch with a snack size bag of chips and two bottles of water. We followed our tracks after having lunch with our new friends and finally made it back to the trail we originally wanted to stay on. I am going to blame really poor signage on the trail for this problem. Maddi joked that she broke her knee as it started to bother her and even swell up a little bit at the end of the hike. I was just happy to see the hostel when we got back. Amongst our intense laughs and good conversation, we witnessed amazing views of the mountains and lakes.

The crew as we parted ways.

The whole day had a certain feel to it, one that was really light and full of contentment. I later found that maybe it was because my Grandpa went to heaven that day to be with his wife, the grandma I am very connected to spiritually. He was struggling for the last month that I was away and it hurt me deeply to not be there to say my goodbyes. Him and I had a very special relationship and I knew I was surrounded by not only his wife, Grandma Wee-Wee’s presence, but also his spirit, which was now free from pain and suffering; he was finally content. That night Maddi and I celebrated his life over dinner and Bailey’s cheesecake. Two weeks later we would celebrate his life back home.

Because Mads “broke” her knee and we had put on so many miles the day before, we took it easy and did a long walk to a waterfall in the mountains the next day before we headed back to Dublin for the night. There we met one of the loudest-snoring hostel mates then wandered around the Temple Bar district, ate falafel wraps, and finished our night drinking Jameson, ginger, and lime--something two Irish men applauded us for since it was a Wednesday. Per usual, they had live music. It doesn’t take much to make me happy when live music is around, but this particular artist was so outstanding I might have married him on the spot if he asked. Yes-- I know that is extreme and creepy, but his music truly made you feel all the feels.

A relaxing and taxing walk to enjoy our last day in Wicklow. 

Thursday we got up early, lugged our luggage a couple miles to our tour bus which would take us to Northern Ireland to explore the Giant’s Causeway, Carrick-A-Rede Rope Bridge, and various outdoor wonders. We had to do at least one super touristy thing, right? 

Giant’s Causeway, all natural occuring basalt colunms-- amazing! & the rope bridge over Caribbean blue water.

Upon returning, we met up with one of the girls I met in Portugal to stay with her for the night, but not before we scored some free coffee from the cafe she worked at, staffed mostly with Brazilians. Mads and I squished into her twin size bed that was a 40 minute walk from the bus stop we’d need to get to in the morning, because traveling isn’t about luxury, #amiright? 

 When we reached the bus stop in the morning, the driver wasn’t selling tickets like the website said he would be. SH*T! I thought he was playing us so I instantly, and out of a little panic, threw back a sarcastic comment to which he laughed and told us he wasn’t lying. After a little back and forth banter, he let us get on FO FREE and made our day. Thank you kind sir and God for always finding a way to make things work out!

 Next stop, meeting connections in Cork for a relaxed weekend!

#solotravel travel soloconcerts gavinjames northernireland giantscauseway adventurealways

[kelhirt]

The next leg of my journey: Deutschland und Portugal

Two days later I was on the absolute worst flight of my life to Germany. That is a whole other story in and of itself, so let’s keep it short and hit the high points: 4 delays, 3 airport changes, landing 7 hours later than planned at Ulster Airport, making me take a two hour taxi ride south with strangers at 3 am to get to Cologne, my original destination.  Shout out to the Claussens, my German family, for being patient and still waiting for me to arrive via taxi at 5 am…9 hours later than planned.

The next five days were filled with both fun adventure and relaxing with the Claussens at their home in Bad Honnef, a city right on the Rhine. Jette left the day after I got there to work at a hostel in Portugal, but we were able to visit Burg Eltz and have a family picnic on the island park in Bad Honnef before she left. 

Each day was something new; except for brekky, I always ate the fresh laugen (pretzel bread) with jam because I can’t ever get enough. My mouth is watering just thinking about it! I fell off my bike on a journey with Elise to get cheap Birkenstocks because it was too big, which made for a good laugh for both us, and the people passing by. We hiked one of the seven mountains in the Rhine area, explored Köln, drank lots of Kölsch during a last minute stop at the city’s Kölsch Fest, drove the Rhine River path, and had a cookout. All this time, I was able to practice my German and look like a fool while I was doing it. The last night I had there, I helped Peter coach soccer, which was a grand time! I was playing with and against young soccer stars who wanted to practice their English with an older American woman. When the scrimmage came around, I had a young boy who was my ally and assisted in a goal I made. I tried not to get into my competitive mode and I’ll absolutely give those girls credit for whooping my butt most of the time.

Elise and I overlooking the Rhine Valley

Because the Claussens are family to me, leaving was really tough. Peter dropped me off at the bus stop at night and I woke up in Berlin the next morning. I used the public bathroom at the bus/metro station to brush my teeth, change, and quickly oriented myself with the metro. I dumped my stuff at the hostel and headed out for a full day of sightseeing. I started my day at 8am and ended back at the hostel at 8 pm, where I paid 5 euro for a freaking towel because I was disgusting from walking the city in high heat. I’m sure I looked like an absolute wreck, because the guy in line behind me offered to pay for my towel when I was debating spending the money or not...my desperation was evident and very real.

The day was fantastic though! At first I was overwhelmed with my map of points of interest, so I started with a boat tour through the city which helped to familiarize myself with directions in the city. Don’t worry, if you know me and my love for maps, I still had it out about 85% of the day. I was a full-blown tourist that day as I made a big loop of Berlin, hopping on and off the metro to make sure I saw all the things. I sat down in places that radiated good energy or cried for more attention. I played in a sprinkling fountain at the Berlin Cathedral with two other tourists because it was hot as hell, and we thought there was power in numbers: they wouldn’t think oddly of 3 people vs 1 cooling off in there. When I got back that night, I was exhausted but eager to journal about everything I saw that day so I didn’t forget anything. As I was journaling, a guy from Syria started talking to me.

Side note: The intro line for guys who are smoking: “do you have a lighter/want a cigarette” is NOT a great way to start a conversation. But I had that happen three times abroad.

Memorial to the Murdered Jews

Berlin Cathedral

Back to Berlin and the Syrian guy that disrupted my journaling to ask for a lighter (though he ended up having one, go figure!)  He and his family were refugees and he opened up to me about living in Syria during the war. It was one of the most eye opening conversations I’ve ever had the privilege of having. I ended up being speechless because I had a human being telling me what their “normal” was, which involved bombings a village away and death being a constant. I could never imagine what that was like, a topic I later reflected heavily on. I mean, how blessed are Americans that our (whole) country has not been destroyed physically and socially. (I might argue it’s on its way to social destruction but eyyy, I’m not about to get political. Please just be a genuinely kind person, honestly).  Because he was so open, I felt comfortable asking questions, which led to some pretty intense conversations. He surprised me when he casually showed me where he was shot one morning while enjoying breakfast outside. Holy man. Three weeks earlier I was sitting outside enjoying tea and biscuits, listening to the birds and the ocean on an Irish island, worried about absolutely nothing. Again, I felt overcome with deep sadness for him and the countries that are war ladden and overwhelming gratitude for what I had at home. He moved to Berlin to get a college education in IT, and disclosed that if he hadn’t been shot in the shoulder and taken to a Turkish hospital, he and his family would have died in a bombing that annihilated their village just days later. I can’t make this stuff up you guys. Talk about humbling and opening your eyes to different perspectives.

 On a lighter note (no pun intended), I did the same thing the next day. Started with some laugen (OBVI!) Jumped on the metro and got off near the Berlin Wall, East Side Gallery. I walked it twice and found something new each way. I sort of got scammed, which was absolute crap because I’ve spotted every trap on my travels. Needless to say, all I wanted to do was sit down and cry for being an idiot, but what good would that have done me? None. So I took a hard lesson, got back on the metro and headed to a beautiful little city just outside of Berlin called Potsdam. I saw most of the palaces, relaxed in the gardens, and chatted with other visitors. I still had lots of negative self-talk that I fought with all day for the morning’s unfortunate happening, but I persevered in site seeing anyway. This is one of my favorite things about travel. Making a really stupid mistake and being able to acknowledge it and move on.

Berlin Wall, East Side Gallery: a mile of amazing art!

Potsdam Palaces

 Berlin was so unique; it was equally as exciting and huge as it was cozy and welcoming. Definitely a place I would love to spend an extended period of time in! But I had places to be; namely Portugal with my German bestie, so the next day I hopped on the plane and headed to Faro, Portugal on the Algarve Coastline. My hostel room had 8 beds and was filled with Spaniards my age to a 40 year old Italian men. Quaint and homey, the hostel was not ready for what it would experience during the upcoming week. Brekky everyday was fantastic in the sense it was a time for connection and community. Everyone was eager to learn something new about everyone. I usually ended up eating with two Belgians, one of whom was a pilot, so my fears of flying were squashed when he gave me some very helpful information on planes. It was when I could talk to the people I shared a room with and through that, the Italian man, Luigio, took a liking to me. He was genuinely concerned that I had a great time in Faro, always asking if I slept alright, making sure I knew about the best places to go and reminding me that it is super easy to burn, so make sure I applied sunscreen regularly. When I burned like a tomato, he said: “Kelli, I warned you. What happened?” then told me about his prescription sunburn relief that was in the fridge. He was my acting dad for a few days. He always made me smile.I stayed a week, so people came and went, and later ended up meeting a Brazilian that lives in Dublin. Fast forward three weeks and I’d be staying at her apartment with a friend. Cool how that stuff happens.

Breakfast was also where I met two guys from Austria and Azerbaijan who seemed discombobulated and grumpy the first time I interacted with them. After I got to know them, I realized they were both just to the point and was hangry. Both can attest to that, and they soon became good friends. Wherever Jette and I would go, they would decide to come along. I can only describe them as lost puppies or the background noise you needed on your adventures; I say this in the most endearing way and they know I called them that, just to make sure we are on the right page. I refer to the friends I made in Faro as “a dysfunctional family” because that’s exactly what we were. We went to different beaches every day, out at night, hung out at brekky and on the roof of the hostel playing cards and made up Eastern Europe geography quizzes.

I was supposed to leave on a Wednesday, but Jette and the guys not only talked me into staying, but also found me cheap flights, because obviously money was the only thing holding me back. Nothing but a few solo days in Belfast were waiting for me in Ireland. So, in a last minute move, I extended my trip to spend four more days baking on the beach with a group of really great people.  In that time I was able to: perform at a bar with a musician, learn a new Brazilian dance, see another city, eat what some people might consider a sickening amount of falafel kebabs, attended a boujee rooftop pool party, and spend time with one of my favorite people. Faro was the epitome of the things I love about travel. Connecting with new people and hearing their stories and making friendships that continue beyond the trip. Also a bonus I got to lay on the beach an extra couple days. Thankfully it is easy to stay connected this day in age, and I talk to the friends I made somewhat often.

Germany and Portugal were two spectacular weeks. I know I’m not alone in the feeling of being a goddess following a day at the beach where your skin smells like the sun and sea salt. I experienced so much and built strong connections with others in this time. I still thank God for the people and experiences he brought into my life in these two weeks and for the adventurous soul I was born with.

Luckily, I wasn’t headed back to America yet; I still had four weeks to dog sit in NW Ireland and a visit from my best friend.

#portugal #sunandsea #germany #berlinwall #travel #girlswhotravel

[kelhirt]

My Travel Journal: an adventure abroad.

Six months ago I returned from my dream; traveling alone to Europe. Though I wish my 2 month stint was more like 12, I couldn’t be more thankful for the time I had abroad. I realized as I was journaling to reflect on the year 2018, that my time in Ireland made a huge impact on my mental health and strengthened my resilience. I think it took so long for me to realize how big of a part it played in my life because I always wanted to answer the “How was your trip?!” question with the things I saw and experienced, not how those very things helped me grow or how they inspire me today.

On my first trip abroad with the high school history club to Italy in 2012, my advisor told us to keep a journal so we didn’t forget all the little happenings from the trip. Best advice I’ve ever received because I now have two journals filled with intimate details of my travels that probably would have been forgotten but are so unique. 

Though I won’t share my exact entries, like all good solo-female travelers, I am going to share parts of my journal. I want to do this because a few friends and family asked me to continue "blogging” while I was abroad and I didn’t, but also because I miss writing. Additionally, I love hearing people’s stories, so why not share some of my personal anecdotes along with some pictures? Because the current attention span people have is less than a minute, I am going to split my entries up so they are more palpable and easy reads. 

So the story begins...

I called my parents early in May (both of whom knew I was semi planning something) and told them I had a dilemma-- flights were crazy cheap, definitely in my allotted travel pot, and I had been wanting to go back to Ireland so bad. Doesn’t sound much like a dilemma they said...so with their validation, I booked the flight and cried for literally 20 seconds, stopped, asked myself out loud why I was crying when I was making my dream a reality, then jumped around. Huge emotional swing in less than a minute. Mid June I was set to go with a carry on, a backpack, and a general plan for the trip that would fall apart right when I landed.

My original plan was to do WorkAway; an international volunteering program where you do a few hours of work each day in return for food and lodging. I did all my research to make sure I didn’t need a special visa, and on all accounts, volunteering never showed that I’d need one...but the lady at customs when I landed in Dublin thought very differently. After 30 minutes of interrogation, showing all my money, holding back tears, and promising I wouldn’t do it, she let me into the country instead of sending my right back to the US on the next plane. I’m used to getting searched every time I fly, but this was a whole new level.

Thankfully a friend talked me into letting him pick me up in Dublin, so once I got through customs, I had a big warm hug and smiling face to welcome me; a moment of huge relief and sheer happiness. After a few chill nights in GaIway, I mischievously decided to go and stay with a woman I had previously set a WorkAway stay up with, who was as confused as I was about the situation. She ended up “adopting me” as a niece for a long weekend, so I hopped on a ferry and journeyed to the beautiful Aran Island: Inis Mor. 

The people I fell into the hands of  during the adventure still blow my mind, and Deirdre was the first on the list. Deirdre leads Celtic Spirituality Retreats and also is an outstanding musician.  In her essence, she is an extraordinary Irish woman who values every second of each day.

We spent a few hours each day painting, singing to the music, and learning more about each other. As we were listening to my Spotify one day, Dermot Kennedy, one of my favorite musicians came on and she seemed surprised that I knew his work. Turns out she is his aunt.  Small world-- Like is this seriously happening?! Check out this intensely beautiful duet they informally performed. After that, check them both out!

The painting we did happened in between morning meditation overlooking the Atlantic on a cliff, afternoon trips to the beach, hiking to Dun Aengus(a prehistoric fort) where they deemed me as a local and let me in for free, and getting lost in fields of sheep on evening walks. 

I spent the summer solstice with Deirdre and her friends, drinking red wine, watching the sunset, and trying to keep up with the folk songs that were being sung by everyone. Later that weekend we all met again at the island’s bonfire night and did it all again...this time I was more familiar with the songs and because of that, I got roped into an Irish jig. Following that, the ladies got a tour of Deirdre's newly painted retreat/music space in her shed and we ended up having a deeply emotional time with song and a circle of gratitude. In meeting those unique and empowering women, I gained about six Irish moms and a place to stay later in my journey.

A few days and a hot Bus Eireann ride later, I was in Dingle, an extremely charming coastal town south of Galway. The first night I was there I went to a local pub and enjoyed great live music and Irish dancing done by a guy who was on Britain’s Got Talent, which was obviously amazing.

I shared a large hostel room with two women. One of my hostel mates was German and a professional badminton player--not sure how I didn’t know that that was a thing...where were the scouts at the doubles badminton 2016 UW-La Crosse Intramural championship when my partner and I killed it? 

My other hostel mate was from California and we ended up having a riot of a time. Dingle is a small town and because she had been there for about a week, she knew many people. We ended up hitching a ride around Sleigh Head Drive with a local pub owner who also was a tour guide on his weeks off. 

Honestly not sure how this stuff happens, but he gave us a personal tour. It involved stopping for homemade baked goods, wine, and a few beaches for a swim to cool off in the hot Irish summer, thanks to global warming. When he had to go back to bartending, he dropped us off at a beach-side pub where we drank Dingle Gin and tonics for hours, making friends with anyone and everyone, followed by hitchhiking home with some tourists from South America. Then of course we had to go see the best bartender in town for some more gin, which made me a very nauseous lady on the 4 hour bus ride back to Galway the next day, but I made it and even got to enjoy my first 99; a plain vanilla ice cream cone covered in sprinkles.Very popular on the beautiful Emerald Isle. 

The days between my short trips away from Galway consisted of me spending time reading at Salthill beaches,  people watching at the Sparch (Spanish Arch), and wandering around my favorite city. Being back in Galway felt like I was at home. I think it’s pretty obvious that I am obsessed with Ireland. But what isn’t so obvious is the strange pull I felt to return and the connection I feel when I am there. I link those feelings to my grandma who visited Ireland many times, and whose spirit is strong inside of me and has been since she died many years ago.

My first two weeks back in Ireland were nothing less than magnificent, setting the tone for the next 6 weeks, but I had more exploring to do.  

Next stop: Deutschland! 

#solotravel #girlslovetravel #chasingdreams #ireland #connection

[kelhirt]

Embrace Your Human

I opened up a book last night, not having any intention of actually reading it. I just wanted to know what more was in it when I decided to sit and immerse myself in the pages, because yeah, it’s that type of book. I opened up to the first page of a chapter. The title? Getting a Hold of that Brain of Yours. For me, it was one of those laughable moments of: “How did this book know that is exactly what I needed to hear?!” So basically, I started to read and since I haven’t posted since the first time, I decided to share with y’all my thoughts and reactions to what I read.

My first reaction was that it is an absolutely incredible thing to be human. When you sit down and think about how complex our systems are, it is actually mind-blowing. On the flip side, it is also amazing how simple we are. We have our basic needs, which if not met and maintained, could cause some big trouble. We have a brain that runs our whole body, yet that same brain that wants you to survive also has the power to control your thoughts, which shows through in your life whether they are positive or negative. We have a heart that pumps blood, but that same heart also has a soul that feels.

This is where I get a little confused and why I was so happy I opened up to this chapter. Our core system that wants us to be well works mostly involuntarily, yet we have to nurture those same parts in order to create happiness. Sometimes that nurturing can often be overridden with negativity from the outside world, especially when it comes to feeling something. Feeling something is such a spectacular experience, whether it’s the warmth coming from a hug from a loved one, empowerment from yourself, or the pain of a heartbreak that comes from many different avenues.

Feeling deeply is hard. Hard as hell actually because it can make you really, super uncomfortable. It can make it hard to get over something, to take a lesson and leave. Being a deeply feeling person sets you up to face really hard times, but also to embrace really genuine good times. This is something I’ve been going through during this season of my life and there are days that I hate it, but there are days that I feel so overcome with gratitude and love for what is happening around me that I want to cry (because that’s what I do; happy or sad).

Through material resources and different interactions, I have been learning more about our “numbing culture.” The one we’re in where it’s so easy for us to act like we aren’t hurt, we’re all alright. This one where people refuse to become fully emotionally involved (with anything!) because we think there is going to be a fallout and we are just protecting ourselves from the future. We aren’t allowing ourselves to honestly, wholeheartedly feel sadness, loneliness, joy, excitement, etc.

I’ll be the first to admit I’ve done it a few times in my life. It’s easy to fall into that place because we all want to keep the “strong” image. That’s fine, but I do truly believe Rupi Kaur’s quote: 

“To be soft is to be powerful.” 

Personally, I believe fully showing someone your heart is one of the most courageous things you can do, even if it’s during a meeting where you speak out and stand up for an idea you are passionate about. Here it is: vulnerability my friends.

Feeling and internalizing those feelings takes the same courage and vulnerability. If you are sad, allow yourself to be really sad; then let that feeling go and move on, knowing that you can make it through, thus allowing yourself to grow. If you are happy; shout it from the mountains! Do whatever. I don’t know, just freakin’ allow yourself that personally, meaningful feeling. Waiting for something bad to happen is just plain stupid. It’s like having a really good treat in your house and not eating it because then it will be gone, and you will no longer be able to eat it. Spoiler alert: that’s the point of a “treat.” So, whether it’s eating an amazing caramel apple, falling for someone, or feeling really content with where you are at in life, take that joy and internalize it. Allow yourself to be wrapped up in it because you will find yourself reconnecting with who you are and the happiness in this world.

If you guys think I allow myself to practice this 24/7; I so appreciate your confidence in me, but I am only a mere human. That’s why I say practice. It’s challenging to be totally vulnerable not only to the outside world, but also with yourself. That’s why I’m writing this. To remind you, but also to remind myself that our brain, which works for us, also is very powerful in working against us if we let it. Don’t sacrifice genuine feelings because your brain tells you that you can’t have them. That you don’t deserve them, because happy or sad, you do deserve that ability to acknowledge them. From there, you can decide what happens.

We deserve to look in the mirror and be 100% true to ourselves knowing that we are so worthy of the privilege to feel. To be overcome with joy. To be struck down by pain, because that is an opportunity to strengthen yourself. If not for that, how would we know what true gratitude feels like?

Challenge yourself to stop numbing certain feelings because you think that will make things easier. Those feelings will always be there if you don’t confront them and they will attack you at the worst moments. Take a break from your phone. Laugh really hard at something you think is funny. Take yourself on a date because you actually enjoy spending time with yourself.

However you decide to do it, remember who you are and that there is always someone who loves you and cares about your beautiful heart. Welcome bliss, learn from hurt, but most importantly, allow yourself to genuinely feel, as it is one of the most extraordinary things God has created us to do.

#challenegeyourself #self love #embracelife #blog #inspiration #selfworth #liveyourtruth #loveyourself #strength #vulnerability #embraceyourself #keepgoing #courage #creativewriting #showyourheart

[kelhirt]

My Vulnerability Revolution

Hey all! First off, thanks for at least getting to the point of pulling this blog up. Second, I have been doing A LOT of thinking the past year, which can be good and also has been hard, thus leading me to finally start (and share) a freakin’ blog. Read on if you wish, if not; please just spread some kindness today. :)

Why did I want to start a blog if I don’t have an idea of what I want to write about?

Because I wanted to. For years. Like all through college.

Truth be told, I’m doing this on a whim and I have no plan as to how I’ll write  or the topics I’ll be writing about. I might ramble for a hot sec, but if you know me, you know that’s how I roll. I’m working on it. Long story short, I’ll get to my take-home message ASAP. 

I played around with the idea of blogging, but always struggled with what it would be about or why anyone would care to read about my life, opinions, values, my aspirations, and so on. My motivation usually spiked when I got home after an adventure abroad, but always talked myself out of it. To sum up my hesitation: Why would I waste my time pouring my heart and mind onto a page for people who really don’t care? 

What changed my mind you might ask?

The past year of my life has been one of my hardest, as life was constantly putting up new obstacles for me to overcome. Because humor and sarcasm are some of my coping mechanisms, I joke that when I turned 22, I entered into my “quarter-life crisis”. I seemed to be unlucky and everything went wrong. My bike tire popped as I rode onto campus for my last semester. Had to get it fixed, so there went thirty some bucks. I sprained and strained my ankle on a ski jump, forcing me to walk around campus in a stylish, black boot in 90◦ weather. I got allergies, then bronchitis and was sick for over half the semester. Oh yeah, my bike, which was actually my boyfriend’s bike, was stolen in the midst of this. I was relaxing in my hammock, but the straps snapped and I hit my tailbone on the ground faster than I could realize what was happening. I got rear-ended the Friday of Oktoberfest. To top it off, my boyfriend and best friend of over six years and I broke up. Of course there’s more, but these were the notable ones. Most of it seems like it shouldn’t matter, and it doesn’t, but at the time I just kept laughing at how my life was unfolding, hoping that if bad luck didn’t end after three events, it would happen after the next one. Needless to say, I was feeling worn out as my last semester of senior year was off to a rough start. 

At this time, I started to really embrace the meaning of being vulnerable, something I think is WAY underrated.

It is my main driver for starting this little project I call a blog, and I hope that after reading this, you will flirt with the idea of adopting this word and its meaning as a staple in your life. I began to really explore it after watching Brené Brown’s TEDtalk titled: “The power of vulnerability”. (If you have not seen it stop reading this! Take 20 minutes and click here). 

The more I started to welcome vulnerability into my life, the more confident I became. In her talk, Brown discusses the idea of people who are connected in life sharing one main characteristic, which is being whole-hearted and authentic. She states: 

“They fully embraced being vulnerable. What made them vulnerable made them beautiful.”  

Do you know a person that draws you to them and you have no idea why? 

I sure do, and I think this quote is spot on! I think what makes these people so magnetic is their ability to share their story without leaving the dark parts out. They lay it all out there: the good, the bad, happy, sad, tears of laughter, tears of frustration and tears of sadness.

 For me, tears of anything have come natural to me since I was young, but I used to struggle with crying in front of anybody. I thought that showed weakness. That people were going to think I was not in control of my emotions. After the first time I let my tears publicly fall, I realized how free I felt. Usually apologies slip out during my crying moments because I don’t want people to feel uncomfortable around me. When I start to do that, I remind myself that my response is candid as heck. I am doing exactly what I’m feeling, and that’s my honest response. Reflecting on and understanding what vulnerability means to me led me to seeing the true value of sharing your whole heart. Don’t get me wrong, I kept, and will still keep some things safeguarded, but the beautiful thing is that what you share is up to you.   

Vulnerability has been a driver for my personal growth and acceptance in the past 6 months more than anything. I still struggle, but I believe that a person shouldn’t have to hide their heart with the fear that someone might not like it. We should be more willing to accept ourselves as broken, bruised, gorgeous, made-in-God’s image humans. The more we can do that, the more others will do the same. This blog has always been something I wanted to create, but was afraid of how people would take it, or if anyone would actually read it. Yet, I’ve always loved writing and used it as a way to get to know myself better, so the more I thought about it, I realized that I don’t really care if people don’t want to read this or give a flying heck about what I have to say. People’s opinions aren’t a reflection on me, but themselves. 

Challenge yourself to be authentic.  Embrace all that is you and do things that compliment that. As long as you are kind, ethical, and honest, then go for it! If it doesn’t work out, thank God for the learning opportunity and move on to the next event. You may not realize it, but your passion and courage is motivating someone else. What you do matters, but what matters most is how you do it. 

Be fearless in the pursuits of what sets your soul on fire. Allow yourself to be vulnerable, my friends, and I promise you will find empowerment and peace within your journey.

#domoreofwhatmakesyouhappy #selflove #vulnerability #beyou #personalblog #challengeyourself #liveyourtruth

[kelhirt]

Gratitude always, always gratitude

Big Magic, Elizabeth Gilbert

#gratitude #positivity #reading #creativity

#quoteoftheday