Cork, Not Cock

“Excuse me, but where is this train going?”

“Cock.”

“…Excuse me, where?”

“Cock.”

“Cock?”

“No Miss, C-O-R-K, Cork.”

“Oh!”

This was my first difficulty with the Irish accent.  I honestly have been able to understand everyone for the most part, but Dubliners’ accents are quite thick and they speak so quickly!  This poor man at the train station probably thought I was an idiot, but he smiled a toothless grin and was very helpful, nonetheless. 

And helpful is the best way to describe the Irish.  Everywhere I’ve been, strangers have gone out of their way to help me find where I need to go, lift luggage onto a train, and drag luggage off a train.  One man smacked his head pretty good on a rail as he hoisted my 50 pound suitcase onto the top shelf of a train luggage rack.  I apologized for this profusely (after all, he hurt himself while trying to help me), but he just gave a smiling wave and said, “Not at all, Miss.  Not a worry.”

The good thing about having a five-hour train ride across Ireland was getting to see the beautiful countryside.  Ireland looks so much like the horse farms in Kentucky – for a moment, I felt like I was back in Kentucky. 

I spent my first night in Tralee, the capitol of County Kerry.  It’s a cute little town with shops, restaurants, and small businesses.  The Christmas decorations are still up, so when I arrived, the town was completely lit up.  I stayed in a beautiful hotel called The Grand Hotel.  The lobby has a small fire with a sitting area and the bar serves delicious food, where I had my first good meal in Ireland – chicken curry with vegetables over rice and a glass of Heineken. 

Before I went to bed, I checked my email – I had over 35 emails and Facebook messages from my family and friends wishing me good luck during my travels.  One message was from my father (or Daddy, as I still call him).  In his note, he reminded me of how much I dreaded growing older when I was a little girl – after all, being a child was so much fun.  He then said something quite significant – that I should enjoy my adult years as much as I did my childhood. It occurred to me that I had never thought about adulthood in that way.  I always thought that being an adult meant having so much responsibility that life is no longer “fun.”  Although maturity does come with responsibility, it does not mean that we cannot still enjoy life.  And that is exactly what I am going to do.  I am going to take this life and see what all is has to offer.   

 Tralee at night.

 The outside of my beautiful hotel in Tralee.

 My room.

 The hardest bed I have ever slept on.

My reward for making it to Ireland.