So Dublin, Ireland. Galway, Ireland. Edinburgh, Scotland. And London. That was the line up for the UK. Each had its own personality and all of them had amazing things to offer. Castles, cliffs, and queens. What truly made this leg of the journey different though is that for the first time since I've been in Europe, I wasn't alone. I had someone close to share the experience. Someone to talk to, to eat with, to laugh with. These things suddenly feel so real when you haven't had them in almost three months. I found myself definitely more aware and thankful for the company than I have ever been in the past. It was nice not being the strange American oohing and aahing to herself at whatever breathtaking view captures the day, and it was nice at the end of each day to be able to reflect and decompress with someone who understood the emotions. Traveling is an emotional experience. Understanding new perspectives and new ways of life. Expanding the box that used to contain your mind and life. There is constant changing and growing. I've been able to share a lot of that through my blog, but having someone there to share it personally is an indescribable feeling. The best part, however, was that I got to experience, change, and grow right a long side the woman I admire, look up to, and aspire to have half of her heart: my mom.
We drank beer and whiskey in Dublin. We took a hike to the Cliffs of Moher where we somehow got off of the trail and ended up jumping fences and streams for two miles until we found the path again. We visited the royal palaces of England and Scotland. We saw Wicked on Broadway. We drank wine. We marched behind the band at the Changing of the Guard and went in every souvenir shop possible :) You're welcome mom. We saw parks, markets, and beaches. So many memorable sights. Some of my favorite times though were when we were just walking, stride for stride, both just taking in everything around us. Our Southern stroll. We came to give it this name one day when we were walking through one of London's many markets and an old lady walking hunched over with a cane sped past us like we were stand still. We both looked at each and just started laughing, but then we started to pay attention. Turns out that it wasn't just a speedy old lady. We were just slow. We were passed by nearly everyone: moms with a kid on each hip, travelers carrying luggage, whole families with young children tagging along. Sometimes we would be conscious of it and attempt to keep pace, but we'd always fall back into the southern saunter. Oh well, we decided. I bet we see a lot more of what's going on around us. No point in rushing things. Unless of course you're late for a train; then you run. The only times we weren't settled into our steady stride was when we were running to catch some sort of transportation: trains, planes, busses. This happened entirely too often but always ended in out-of-breath laughter, and I don't think we actually missed a single one. The closest, though, we only made by probably 15 seconds. We could see the train sitting at the platform and had about a minute until it left. Whew. We were safe...until our tickets didn't work at the stall. We end up sweet talking the gate attendant to let us through (Nothing wrong with a little charm every now and then :) then I take off sprinting. I leap through one of the train's automatic sliding doors pretty much as they lock and the train starts moving. "Oh, shit! Mom!" I frantically look around only to see her laughing a few cars down. She made it. Such a stud. We tended to attract the most interesting company on trains. The Irish, Scottish, and British tend to be much less agressive than the Greeks and Itailians when it comes to remarks toward women. The kissing and whistling doesn't really happen; however, there's always one in crowd, and we usually found him. We're minding our own business one day on a train when an older man plops down in front of us and proceeds to hit on...my mom! I must say this was a new experience for me, and quite frankly wasn't sure how to handle the situation. Mom had it under control though nicely flashing her ring and essentially telling this guy to screw off in such a graceful way that I'm not sure he even knew what happened. Go mom, right!? Goes to prove that we can always still learn something from our parents.
You learn a lot about someone when you travel, and a month of it together is a testament to any relationship. I'm so blessed to have a relationship with my mom that can not only survive this but thrive in it. I'm perhaps more thankful though to have a mom that could put up with me for a month straight because I'll be honest, there have been days over here where I get tired of me. There's just something about the vulnerability of being out your comfort zone, of sleeping in a different place every few days, of never knowing exactly where you're going. It all wears on you over time. What you see is truly what you get when you've carried a 40 lb backpack through 13 cities across Europe, and while I feel like I've developed a pretty good travel sense in that I've managed to get where I need to go, stay safe, not lose anything (except myself a few hundred times), I definitely still have my moments. She probably saw the worst of it, too, because as soon as she arrived, it was like every single guard was let down. "Do you have the key Amanda?" "Oh..hang on one sec. Let me go get it" "Did you turn the straightener off?" "Oops" "Do you know where you're going?" "Um.. Yeah not a clue" Even my immune system.. Only days after her getting here, I came down with some virus that was crazy combination of pink eye, bronchitis, and the flu. It was like my body and brain new that it could chill out for a bit. That someone else was there to look after me and to take care. Who better to do that than mom.
Life isn't always pretty folks :)My heart is so full at this point in my journey. I'm so thankful for a best friend in mom who is brave enough to take the jump with me for a while, and a dad who let's both of his girls go while he holds down the fort. Sometimes experiences are less about gaining something new and more about realizing what you already have.
I'm back on my own now, all guards properly in place, and I'm left to reflect on the one question that I've had since she started planning her trip. Was it different? Was it different sharing this experience with someone else? The answer is absolutely yes. It was very different. When your on your own, you spend a lot of time in your head. It's a time for reflection and thinking and understanding your view points and the way YOU truly feel about circumstances. There's also a sense of confidence that grows when you're on your own, an "I can really do this" feeling. You push yourself past boundaries you thought you had. You learn about yourself: about what you need, about what you like, about what bothers you. You become extremely grateful for the small luxuries that you so often take for granted. Have you ever taken a shower without a towel? Let me tell you, towels are blessings. Being alone has taught me that I am ok. I am ok with just me as me. I now know that I have this independent fight in me should I ever need it in life. It's an indescribable feeling of security that I've never fully known. All of that being said, something else the past three months and specifically the past month has taught me is that this world.. It's meant to be shared. Whether it's shared with someone you just met or with someone who's been there since the day you were born, people make places great. Not the other way around.
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