Time to Move

My Cork days are growing short.

I have to leave this apartment by 13:00 today, and as of right now, I do not know where I am going next. My options are to roll into Waterford where I have a couple of friends that I have not been able to reach, and take my chances as I did in Cork (which almost put me sleeping in the bus station)…or pick another random destination from the BusEirann directory and take my chances with overpriced hostels. It is both a nervous but welcome feeling in the pit of my stomach, not knowing where I will sleep tonight or how I will get there.

I am terribly sad to tell Paola and Co. goodbye, they have been very good to me. It is time to move on though, the longer I stay here the more stagnant and lazy I become. I do feel pressure to hurry up and get to Morocco where the budget and weather are much more forgiving. I just need to survive Ireland until Sunday, then get to Dublin somehow and fly out to Sweden.

Yesterday I took the 5 EUR train 25 minutes to the south and explored a small town named Cobh. They dont even have bus service, only the train. It sits on the water and its claim to fame, and the only reason there is anything tourist there whatsoever, is that it was the Titanic’s last port of call before it sank. They have a Titanic museum with an interesting film, and a nice waterfront park. The weather, although windy from the sea, permitted me to sit outside on the sidewalk and drink an Irish coffee in the sunshine before it turned gray again. There is also a huge Cathedral there with gothic architecture. The church is larger than the damn town in fact.

Now that I feel the urge to move on, I can feel a familiar, old sensation creep up the base of my spine. A tingling that I cant quite put my finger on, almost as if something that should be in my body is missing. Caffeine? Sugar? No, it goes deeper than that. It is the dread of not having anything adventurous or dangerous on the radar yet. I can only take so many pictures of streets and old churches. I am missing an integral part of my vagabonding diet, and that is to get into some sort of trouble. So far, the most excitement I have had was sneaking into a restaurant’s upstairs bathroom to change clothes after the weather turned. The owner ran me out because it was for customer’s only. If you dont get yelled at while backpacking every now and then, then you just arent doing it right. 🙂 I have one more month of safe and sane Europe exploration left, then I can go to Morocco and Egypt and throw poop into the proverbial fan by the truckload….at least I will have something more interesting to write about!

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