Getting Real...

Well, the day has come. Today I go to London, and a week from now I'll be on a plane home to the USA.

I packed last night. It weighs too much. Story of my life.

I'll try to post an update while I'm in London. I have a lot to look forward to:

1. I get to stay with a friend from freshman year.
2. I get to meet up with the amazing Natalie AND fly home with her.
3. I get to go to Jane Austen's home Saturday.
4. I get to participate in a writing workshop at Jane Austen's home Saturday.
5. I'm going to try my darndest to get to Paris for a day or two.

Then, God and airlines willing, we will land in Chicago next Thursday at around 2PM. 

It's becoming real. So real. Painfully real. 

I'm leaving what has been my  home for eight and a half months. And when I get home a really important person will be missing. 

But all of my friends will be there (well, scattered but still). And my family.  

And so, if I don't get to post again before, Happy Mother's Day to my amazing Mommy and wonderful Step-mom. Thank you so much for your love and support throughout my grand adventure. 

Hmmmm...I might have a name for my next blog....

Baci,

Mari

Well hi! From Patrick St.

And now, for the long awaited and anticipated first blog post from my new apartment!!!

I have an Irish address. As in, Ireland. How flipping cool is that?!?!

It's above an art gallery (which is why I say we have a pet dog....because during the day they play this art film that is a black lab howling inside what sounds like an echo chamber...we can hear him two floors up). It's right across from the grocery store (which is a good thing, except being able to just run in and get something isn't good for my bank account). It's right downtown amongst all the stores (again, bank account). And...right around the corner from the best pubs (I don't need to explain that, do I?).

Got these pics from Emma.

We finally have internet, we have cable, we even have a home phone (because it was in the bundle). We have a washing machine. A dish washer. We added a coffee pot.

The stuff on the wall is a map of Barcelona and post cards I got there. Working on a similar one for Limerick.

Life is going.

Except for the whole bills part...that's fricking terrifying. Frickin. Terrifying. And being responsible and what not. Which is not to say that I'm a stranger to responsibility. I'm not. But on my own, in another country...well, it can get overwhelming.

Fortunately, I have a roommate. An ausome aussie roommate.

We did some touring of the city, I suppose you might want some pictures....

Click here to view these pictures larger

Baci,
Mari

*drafted a week ago - only published once pics could be added.

Life

My Dad died yesterday. He was 69. He had many lung problems - he was always afraid he would suffocate, but instead he fell asleep and did not wake up. He had been sick for over 10 years, so while it wasn't unexpected, the death of someone so close is never expected and never easy. You always hold on to the hope that some miracle will happen.

I am not going home for the funeral. He did not want me to come home. He wanted me to stay - and I know that if I went home I would not be able to get on the plane back here. He is not there anyways. He said many times that he wished he could be here with me, travel with me, come see me - now he can.

This semester will be a struggle for me. You will notice this reflected in the blog, I am sure. The nature of this semester is very different anyways - there are no big trips planned, not even weekend excursions. Yes, I will get out and explore Ireland, but not in the way I did Italy. I will be taking four classes, participating in a choir, doing some work online, and focusing on breathing and taking each day at a time.

I have three months and twenty-five days until I touch down in the States again. In 41 days my Roma cohort, the great Natalie, will come to visit me.

I am honored to be going through this journey. I am honored to be continuing this journey. I am honored to have so much support from family and friends. I am honored that you are reading this.

Now, in the words of my stepmom, Sheila, it's time to "lock and load".

Thank you so much, dear readers, for you support and prayers.

Dublin, or...

...how I almost got deported before ever leaving the airport.

Yes, you read that right.

from babypicturesphotos.com

That's how I felt (and looked for that matter) yesterday at about 12:30PM or so Dublin time. 

At approximately that time the Immigration Official (Mr. Grumpy) informed me that since I didn't have an official letter from MIC stating enrollment I was going to be sent back "to where I came from". (Which, I suppose, would have been Barcelona). 

Heart. Stopped. 

He refused to let me enter as a tourist (because I couldn't "be both student and tourist and I said I was a student and now I just wanted to change my story"?). I couldn't check my email because I couldn't register for 10 minutes of free wifi because I didn't have a cell phone for it to send my password to. I couldn't be escorted to a phone to call MIC because there was a line of people and, as Mr. Grumpy put it, "Did I expect all those people in line to wait on me to be escorted to a phone?" Also, he refused to give me my passport back. 

He told me to just go sit down. I did. I tried not to dissolve into a mess of salty water. 

After Mr. Grumpy and his partner, Mr. Unconcerned (now with his feet up on the desk - not kidding), had dealt with the other 12 or so people in line he waved me back up. He asked for the name of the school I was supposed to be enrolled at. Then he asked how much I paid for these classes I was supposed to be taking. He looked up the number, called MIC, and said "I have a young woman here by the name of Mari Lynn Thompson who is presenting herself as a student at your university for the semester but she doesn't have a letter."

OF COURSE I DON'T HAVE A LETTER. IT'S SOMEWHERE ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER AT HOME IN KENTUCKY WHERE I HAVEN'T BEEN FOR FIVE MONTHS. 

They confirmed my enrollment. As he began to stamp my passport eh said "You didn't present yourself very well here this morning."

Um, no shi* Mr. Grumpy. I've NEVER had to go through immigration when going from one EU country to another. I didn't know I needed the letter - I've been in Europe...

"And I am very very sorry." Truer words never spoken. 

Mr. Grumpy took my picture, gave me my passport back, further instrctions about having only a month to go to the local police station and get all my blah blah blah. 

I got my suitcase and dissolved into a salty water mess. 

Then, bus to Limerick where I met Emma. She's awesome. She brought me peanut butter. 

Baci,

Mari