Fernweh

The Emerald Isle. I couldn’t even believe I was actually here. It had been a long flight, with hours of tossing and turning, but standing here convinced me it was all worth it. Even Hilda’s grumbling and ever-present scowl couldn’t dampen my mood. Really, it wasn’t that bad. I had just politely asked a group of burly Irish men to escort us to the baggage claim, and they had been kind enough to oblige.

“Tourist?” one of them asked in a gruff voice.

“No, I’m passing through. Finally fulfilling my lifelong dream of backpacking with my friend Hilda. She’s somewhere around here.” I answered with a grin.

He smiled back at me and introduced himself as Bernard, which in my opinion seemed far too American for him. He chuckled when I told him so, but he must have noticed my starry-eyed look as he began explaining the Gaelic meaning.

“Ya want me ta teach ya some words?” he asked.

I nodded my head enthusiastically, eliciting a deep rumbling chuckle from Bernard. “It’ll sure come in handy if you’re planning on stayin’ a while.”

We were soon deep in conversation, Bernard teaching me simple Gaelic words, (mostly food orders, since he said I looked hungry), and already having a great time. Through his crowd of his friends, I heard Hilda’s voice faintly, as she complained again about having to use the bathroom.

“Come on, Hilda!” I chirped, “These nice men are showing us to the baggage claim; you can honestly wait until then!”

Her only response was to groan loudly and keep trudging on as if she were being taken to the chopping block. We soon reached the baggage claim and I spot my bag right away, a fluorescent orange one that’s so ugly no one would want to steal it. Clever idea, no? Shrugging it over my shoulder with some difficulty, I turn to Bernard as he wraps me up in a big bear hug.

“Take care of yerself, ya hear?” Bernard tells me with a smile.

“I will, I promise. Thank you boys, it was lovely meeting you!” I wave as I skip away to find Hilda. I find her spinning in a circle like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music, and promptly hook my arm in hers as we make our way out of the airport.

“Did you see those guys? They were huge and so sweet! I’m relatively sure they're bikers. And that one with the tattoo of the naked lady on his arm taught me all kinds of awesome words. I can now successfully order a cheese pizza and a beer in Gaelic. Beat that,” I gush, elbowing my way through a particularly slow crowd of people. Hilda tags along behind me, most likely rolling her eyes like she always does. Stepping out into the crisp Irish air, I take a deep breath and let out an excited squeal. I’ve made it.



“Jesus Christ, West, why couldn’t you pack light for once?” Hilda complains as we drag our bags up the stairs. I just roll my eyes at her and continue tugging at the heavy luggage. Isaacs Hostel was quite impressive, but they hadn’t mentioned there were no elevators.

We finally make it up to the room and I tap my foot impatiently as Hilda fumbles with the keys. After that flight that seemed to last for days, and then the bus ride here, I am more than ready to collapse into an exhausted heap on my bed. She finally gets the door open and I trudge in after her, dropping the bags next to the bed. I kick off my shoes, not really caring where they land, and promptly flop down onto the soft mattress, not bothering to take in my surroundings.

“Hey. West.” Hilda calls out, her voice muffled by the thick comforter.

“What?” I mumble, on the verge of passing out.

“Sweet dreams.”



I wake up, God-knows-how-many hours later, in a disheveled mess. From what I can tell, it's almost nighttime, and Hilda is still out cold. I poke her face a few times, just to see if I can rouse her, but she only huffs out a sigh and rolls over. Slipping out of bed carefully, so as not to wake her, I tip-toe to the bathroom and take care of business. When I come out, now relaxed but wide-awake, Hilda is still sleeping like a log.

I gently sit on the edge of the bed, considering my options. The least likely of my options is to go back to sleep. Or... I could do a little sight-seeing and have a one-up on Hilda when she wakes and decides she wants to begin our first adventure. Shrugging my shoulders, I figure I can't get into too much trouble without her if I pop out for a quick look around. Grumbling to myself about the cold, I pull on a coat, scarf, and gloves, slipping out of the room and out onto the streets of Dublin.