I wrapped up my time in Greece this last week and Aldo and I split ways for the last part of our journey. With the kiwi harvest complete, there was really no work for me to do anyways. That, coupled with the fact that George's was closed for a few days, let me slip away without any feelings of unfinished business, other than the pink-eye I contracted in the last week.
This morning finds me far from the fair weather that I said goodbye to in Greece. I am sitting now in Cork, Ireland about to head west to meet my next host family. The U.K. and Ireland is experiencing the worst snowstorms it has seen in the last decade. Lucky me...
I caught a plane to Athens and then on to London on the 1st. Since the airline didn't offer a flight to Cork I used another airline, therefore causing me to have to go through customs and have an overnight stay in London. In all my travels I have never so much as been looked at when going through customs, but I guess there is a first for everything.
I approached the young lady at the inspection counter and she started to ask me the normal questions associated with crossing borders. For some reason, she enjoyed it an decided to go a little further. Something in my one-word answers must have worried her because she then asked how I could afford to travel all this time, what I did for a living, where I got the money, how much I had, what were my plans in London, why such a long stay, where is my work visa for ireland, what agency am I with, etc. She asked me where I planned to stay that night. If I were my normal self, I would have said something like "Ma'am, that's a little forward. We've only just met." But I wasn't my normal self so I told her "in the lobby." I had just woken up from a nap on the plane and my pink-eye was screaming out to her that I must be a drug trafficer or international criminal. She sat me on the bench and confiscated my passport. I was officially "detained." BOM Bom bom....
I guess I cleared out with whatever tests they did to my documents. She looked as if a small victory had been taken from her when she told me I was free to go. She did give me 48 hours to leave the country, which made me feel important.
Sleeping in the lobby was a bad idea, and it technically was impossible that night. The cold penetrated into the foundations and found its way into my bones. Hmm, I guess the towel I had between me and the tile wasn't a great insulator. I did drift off in the morning for a spell before I decided to check on my flight. Lucky me, it was cancelled. No problem, as they put me on another one that was supposed to leave earlier but in fact left much later. By the time I landed in Ireland it was too late to catch the bus to meet my hosts, so I had to find lodging for the night.
You know me, my first instinct was to sleep in the bus station. Bad idea. I trudged through the snow and ice until I stumbled upon a youth hostel. I went straight to bed.
This morning I awoke and took advantage of a shower and free breakfast. I set off for a day of adventure in Cork City. The town itself is a thriving cultural center (in fact, it is the self-proclamed cultural heart of the U.K. and Ireland). I found a discount store and stocked up on winter clothes since my carribbean clothes just weren't holding up. I bought some new boots and tried to break them in. In doing so, I broke into the hidden recesses of the city that can only be seen on foot. It is clean but unorganized, with tall designer shops on the main street and alleys full of small dealers and coffee shops. There is literally a pub every 4 or 5 shops. The rest of the day found me exploring the English Covered Market and city life.
Now I am on my way to my temporary home on the west coast of Ireland. If I make it through the cold I will be around to write more. Stay warm, everybody.
-Sayer
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