I'm typing this in the only occupied room on the third level of a house in Plymouth. The door keeps creaking, as if someone is slowly inching it open, but there's no one outside. It's really freaking me out, and I will probably sleep with the lights on if I sleep at all.
Lots of stuff has happened! Ireland was just wonderful. It's next to Korea as the two countries I'd revisit. Now I'm in the UK. Bristol was meh, Bath was very nice, but I found myself walking in circles! I literally would find myself in the same spot after half an hour. I had breakfast at a place called All Bar One (recommended by a hostel staff) and the tea came with chocolate.
I've felt homesick and lonely and scared, but I've also had great conversations, seen breathtaking scenery, met some truly fascinating people... It all sounds so dry. I don't think it's true that travel stories don't translate, that people back home won't get it; but it's oddly hard to put these stories through.
From the pizza as big as a tire in Kilkenny to the hour long dash to Dublin freaking port to my random and awesome travel companions to getting cheated at a stupid store in Bristol to being called 'love' (yes!) in Bath to sleeping in what I unfortunately suspect is a haunted house in Plymouth... I wouldn't trade this for anything.
People I don't know actually invited me to join them for a drink when I walked past the restaurant (they were safe looking people, really). A stranger ordered sweet potato fries for my table and left??? I have no idea what that was about, but the sweet potato fries came with three dips - bloody Mary ketchup, tequila mayo and jagermeister chili and were DELICIOUS. Yes, it seems like with enough time in Ireland, anyone would at least come to accept alcohol :X
And I made friends with a dog named Fritz :D Really cute!