Ireland Part 3: The trip back to Dublin..

When I arrived back at the hostel, the breakfast crowd were playing monopoly and drinking beer. They called me over as I walked by. I am not even sure they knew my name; I believe someone called me “Canada”.

There was a young couple from Germany, his English was better than hers, she seemed to cling to him, he looked more like a protective big brother than a boyfriend. There was a guy from England, with the most charming accent and a face so gorgeous I had to make a conscious effort not to stare. He looked over at me, still completely aware of his game, oblivious to his own beauty “How was your day? Where did you go?”. As I explained to him about my bus tour and the new friends that I made, I was impressed with my composure and nonchalant demeanour. I soon realized that my story had the complete attention of another man; we’ll call him ‘D’. I turned to him and asked him about his travels, what local attractions he has seen, he mumbled, looked at the ground. He was very quiet; he wouldn’t look at me, he just looked at the ground, played with his hands. I could barely hear him as he muttered random and disorganized details of his travels thus far. He looked nervous, uncomfortable.

He didn’t have a beer like the rest of them; he wasn’t yelling and laughing like them. As I tried my best to listen and understand, I decided I would break the imminent awkwardness. I mentioned that I was planning on heading back to Dublin tomorrow, I laughed at myself for not even knowing how I was going, or what I would do when I got there. After a bit more tired chatter, we had decided that we would head to Dublin together tomorrow. He didn’t seem to have any more direction than I did, except he was taking a train to Dublin, I knew trains, I knew Dublin, and now it has been about 8 minutes of chatter that made no sense, and now he was coming back to Dublin with me. I thought about my decision to travel with this man that I don’t know. I could almost see my best friends expression back home, a look of deep concern with a ‘you know better than this’ sort of scrunch of the eyes.

But she wasn’t here, no one was, just me, my instincts, and my new friends in Ireland. There was nothing about any of this that scared me, somewhere along my travels, I had kicked fear in the head, watched it fall to the ground, squashed it mercilessly under my foot, gazed deeply into the very depths of it, and said “Me and you, we’re done, for good”. And we really were. I slept that night in my dirty cold, gum and graffiti filled bottom bunk, with total inner peace and confidence.
The next morning I tip toed to the unisex showers and peeked my head in, fully clothed. We’re clear. I scurried across the slippery tile floor and jumped into the nearest shower, excited to see a shower after days of hot buses, hostels and Guinness. I opened the shower door wearing a towel and snuggling my clothing, ready for the mad dash back to my shared dorm room.

The German guy from last night’s Monopoly game walked in and stopped and looked at me. He looked up and down, he looked concerned. “What happened to you, Canada?” he said, holding my gaze, waiting for my words, almost completely disregarding the fact that I was wearing only a towel. I was confused, what was he asking, I didn’t understand. He looked back down, specifically at my foot. I looked down to see a stream of blood dripping from my big toe. I was mortified, I had no answer, I wanted him to have an answer, I wanted to run away, and cry. I saw a bottle of bleach in the corner of the bathroom and had to restrain myself from cleaning, in a towel, with my male friend, still standing there staring, and all worried. I’ll clean later I thought. I mumbled and laughed, dismissed the whole thing and walked away, trying not to shake, trying not to lose my towel. I went back fully clothed and scrubbed and scrubbed, the bleach made me nauseous. Thankfully no one saw that part, since I still had no explanation ready. By the time I went down to breakfast, I was shaking, exhausted, and desperate for a really good distraction. D was there, on his laptop, with no breakfast. I was relieved to see him.

We sat there next to each other quiet, and looking at photography. It was calming, although I still wasn’t satisfied. I put my heavy head in my still shaky hands and said “I need a coffee”. D and I made plans to go and have breakfast together somewhere before our train. I couldn’t wait though, I went to the hostel kitchen to make myself a coffee, and my German friend from the bathroom was standing there, looking at me, with a hot and perfect cup of coffee. He handed it to me and said “Are you okay?” I didn’t answer; I just laughed nervously and took a sip of the coffee. “Thank you so much!” I forced cheerfully. He winked at me and we headed back to the dining room. D and I spent the next hour or so chatting with the others, and we booked a 5pm train. He was much chattier this morning; I practically had to drag him out there to get him to come to the Irish pub for breakfast with me. It wasn’t until I’d given him a bit of attitude, and complained about being hungry that I realized that this would be the last time he might ever see the friends he made here in Killarney. A wave of guilt fell over me, as they exchanged numbers and reminisced about their time together. I sunk into the couch, feeling selfish and pushy. Germany came over to me, looked at me and shook his head, smiling at me. I smiled back, wondering how he always catches me in the most pathetic discrepancies. “You’re going to have fun with this one, Canada, he’s a fiery one!” he shoved D a little and laughed. He then dropped a box of sugar coated donuts on the table in front of me. I devoured 1 and a half donuts right then, completely forgetting Germany’s comment. I waited patiently while D said all his goodbyes, I didn’t want to say goodbyes, I’m just not very good at them. As we we’re on our way out, I nodded at a few folks and said polite things. I went up to Germany and said “Take care of yourself and her”. We looked over at Germany’s girlfriend who was snuggling in the corner. He rolled his eyes and nudged me playfully.

D and I walked to the pub, quiet, perhaps a bit sad. That morning, we sat in an old Irish pub on our last day in Killarney and ate Irish breakfast, drank copious amounts of coffee, and chatted for hours. He talked about his love from 10 years ago, it was painful to watch him tell the story, he looked lost, and hurt, like it had all just happened. We talked about everything, from, where we’ve been, where we’re going, to music, influential leaders, and family, and the future. I did most of the talking, rambling about anything and everything. He hung onto every last word, like everything I was saying had significant importance. We ate sticky toffee pudding and listened to the rain hitting the windows. The hours went by like minutes.

When the sun came out that afternoon we walked through Killarney, carefree, making fun of each other, giddy and hyper from unnecessary amounts of coffee. “I want to show you something” he said mysteriously. As we walked, I saw nothing but old buildings, and an old gas station. “Wow, it’s just beautiful, I mean, this gas station with all its...” I trailed off rolling my eyes and walking ahead, and suddenly, like it came out of nowhere I was standing in front of a large beautiful cathedral. He came up behind me a whispered “Smartass” in my ear, and walked away. I ran excitedly behind him and yelled “It’s beautiful!!” We went inside the cathedral with its large stained glass windows, gargoyles, and old roman architecture. As we walked, we were stopped by a blind man, eyes wide open, and completely bloodshot. I jumped back at the sight of him, are his eyes bleeding? I shuddered as I stepped behind D and kept my head down. He shook a peice of paper at us that had a prayer on it. “Are you catholic?” asked. D said no and walked away. I stood there, just out of his reach. “Um, well yes, but...” I couldn’t stand to be there looking at him anymore. He had the biggest smile on his face, and was waving his hands around, like he was trying to position me, he wanted me to take his prayer. “Um, well yes, I am, but, I’m okay, but thank you” I stuttered so ridiculously that the blind man laughed and waved as I walked away, unable to take my eyes off him. “You are a lovely woman” he said, as he kind of...bowed at me or something. I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness as I meandered through the church. I found D again, who immediately saw in my eyes everything I was feeling. He started pointing out different things in the church, distracting me long enough until we left. As walked away from the church, he rubbed my arm and smiled kindly. Then asked we walked back to town he made ridiculous jokes until I had forgotten about the blind man, and was gaily meandering by his side throwing back the banter and calling him down.

The train ride to Dublin that evening was relaxing and easy. We chatted a bit more as we crossed through small towns and watched the sun go down over Ireland. We were tired and hungry. When we arrived in Dublin we walked on foot dragging our luggage and backpacks through the cobble streets. The night was warm, and alive with music and energy. I struggled with my luggage, and he watched me, slightly amused by my attempt to look okay with my over sized luggage dragging behind me. After a few jabs about this is why we don’t carry 12 pairs of shoes and shopping and backpacking don’t mix, I finally gave in and let him take my suitcase. I felt weak, but I didn’t care, I was tired, and I was hungry.

We arrived at the blooms hotel in Dublin which was every bit as fabulous as he had described earlier. He told me he was taking me to his favourite restaurant in Dublin. When I got to my room I threw down my suitcase, backpack, and large purse, and threw my exhausted body on to the large luxurious bed. I shuffled through my luggage looking for my black dress and stilettos that I hadn’t had a chance to wear yet. I excitedly stripped off my cut up cargo pants and hoodie, and put on my perfect black dress. I felt about 20 pounds lighter without all the layers and bags. As I walked into the lobby to meet D, he was waiting there, all in black, looking rather handsome. I walked up to him and said “Ready?” I giggled a bit as we left the hotel, I felt like a kid playing grown up. We sat in this beautiful little bistro that was completely empty. We ate delicious Irish food, drank wine, and chatted more, mostly about love and relationships this time. We talked about my boyfriend back home, and his ex. After dinner we headed out to a pub in Temple Bar, which is the heart of Dublin’s night life to enjoy some classic Irish music. I spent the night dancing and enjoying copious amounts of Guinness with the locals, while D decided this wasn’t really his scene and headed back to the hotel early.

The local Dubliners and I partied and drank for at least a few more hours. As I stumbled back to my hotel that night, I noticed I was being followed, as he walked closer to me, I saw it was a man I’d been dancing with for most of the night, he was falling all over the place, calling my name. I kept walking, hoping he was get distracted, but instead he sped up. I turned around and said “You’re drunk, go home”. He cornered me against a building, his alcohol filled breath on me, and said “Come with me, I think I love you”. He had me completely cornered “Let me go!” I trembled. “Get out of here man, leave the girl alone!” A voice came from the distance. I recognized him, he was another one of the locals who I’d spent the last few hours drinking with. “What we’re you thinking! It’s too dangerous around here, let’s go back”. He held onto my arm and walked back to the hotel. “Thank you, I appreciate your help” I said as we got to the hotel entrance. The clerk came towards the door to let me in. “Want some company gorgeous?” said the man that saved me, getting pushier and looking at me, his aura suddenly spewing with dis-honorable intentions. “No, please...” I trailed off. “Get going them, out of here!” the clerk yelled, as the man that saved me scurried off in fear. “You’re okay, come inside” said the clerk. “Thank you” I said, feeling defeated, not even having a chance to soak in what had just happened.

D was sitting there in the lobby, looking completely relieved, yet angry. I went and sat down next to him, feeling like a child that had snuck out at night. I felt immobilized; I wasn’t sure what to say. He looked at me with cold eyes and said “I’m glad you’re safe”, and walked away.
The next morning I went down to the lobby to meet D for breakfast. I could still feel the Guinness and music inside me as dragged my exhausted body to meet him. D was waiting for me, and looking the same as he did last night, sheer disappointment.

We sat down to breakfast that morning, he was silent, and he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I wanted desperately for him to talk to me, or even get mad at me. I kept talking; I asked him to talk, and nothing. I asked him to talk again and again, and nothing. He poked at his eggs, head sunk, looking heavy, and sad. He’d look at me briefly, and look away again. The city that morning was empty, and quiet. Not like in Canada where endless amounts of yuppies line up at the trendiest breakfast joint in their Pj’s and outrageous stories from the night before. Dubliners don’t even do that until about 11-12 noon. IT was about 10am, and like the conversation at our table, the city was quiet, and empty.

I was out of ideas, he wasn’t going to talk. I suddenly understood why. I looked at him and said “I’m sorry”. And after a rather long pause he looked up at me, and said “Love is patient, and kind, always forgiving...” he struggled for his words and then shut down again shortly after, without finishing his sentence. I knew at that moment that it was time for me to go on, alone.

I still have the look in his eyes memorized as I said goodbye to him that morning. Vulnerable, lost and so sad.

Everyone comes into your life for a reason, and every circumstance has a purpose, perhaps our time together was short, but I learnt a lot in that few days, about myself, about the importance of friends, and the impact that one person can make.