Wednesday at the Horseshoe (8/26 post)

[The internetz on our journey throughout the countryside has been pretty much hit-or-miss, with wifi specifically being miss. For example, I am currently sitting in a closet in the attic at Frank and Kay’s, the only spot in their house with service. So I typed these posts up previously and am uploading them now.]

As I write this, I am in bed at the Horseshoe House bed & breakfast in Doolin, a small town near the Cliffs of Moher (HARRY POTTER SITE!!!!). Anyway, I find the location slightly ironic, as this same night in Jackson, sorority ladies will be fraternizing with freshies, awkwardly interacting at the sketch Horseshoe bar whilst trying desperately not to hotbox.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Jackson and the ole Saps. I really started this whole study abroad thing because I needed so badly to get away, from Millsaps and Mississippi and more. A lot of things changed very quickly, and suddenly what I thought my college would be wasn’t an option anymore. So I had this idea, and against all odds, it actually happened.

But it’s good. It’s what I needed. I needed this is be excited again. About Ireland, of course, but also excited about going back. About returning to a place that, to be honest, has been pretty disappointing to me lately. But the rain of Ireland might just be what it takes to wash away the chip on my shoulder.

In other news: For the past couple nights we have been watching the Rose of Tralee contest on the telly, which is basically the Irish Miss America except there’s no swimsuit section, its more about personality and less about looks, and any girl with Irish heritage can enter – even if she herself is not actually Irish (there were British and Australian and Texan and New Orlean and more contestants). So the current plan is that I have about three more years to find a way to become the Mississippi Rose and go to the Rose of Tralee contest! In case you are interested, the London Rose won this year, and she had a funky hairdo.

In other other news: Anne’s promises of Ireland being a veritable redheaded oasis have thus far proved false. While there have been a few redheads, there is definitely no overwhelming amount. In fact, they are scarce enough that when either my dad or I spot one, we immediately and awkwardly point it out to the other one (occasionally loudly and with finger pointing). We are embarrassing.