"Guess who's back, back Again?"

It was only a matter of time. You can only pay for a domain name that requires you to travel abroad to use it in good conscience for so long before you actually have to follow through on your promises. As of this moment I'm lying down in a studio apartment in Cork City, near city centre (not my spelling, but hey, gotta try and fit in). And since I've napped intermittently a few times for 1.5 hour spurts for the last 2 days, what better time than the present to try and document the journey so far?

"What do you want to come to Ireland in the middle of a bleedin' pandemic for?"-- some Irish immigration officer to me today

Tough question! (My answer was "better than where I was before I came over"... how could I know that though?). Another answer is, if I had my druthers, I'd stay here longer than the mandated 90 days. Another answer still is, I get restless after no travel for a while. Bottom line, during the monotony of Buffalo-based, Chipotle-reward-system life, you do eventually crave something totally different. And I do think this will end up being that. That being said, I'll be here til December 1st, so I can make the most out of having to endure a 2-week quarantine with only "essential travel".

Anyhow....

Let's begin at the beginning , for the sake of "if I ever want to remember that time it was difficult to travel and you nearly shat your pants before every immigration interview".

You might ask yourself-- no wait, scrap that, only I would ask myself this-- "how long does it take to get from Buffalo to Cork, if your limits include:

1) the reduced number of flights we have now

2) you're using miles through your preferred airline and

3) you really want to actually land in Cork vs. Dublin and take the train.

Answer? About 18 hours of in-flight travel.

In my younger and more formative years, 18 hours of airports wasn't such a bad thing. There's restaurants, lounges, wifi, food, diversion. Guess what? Most of that ain't here anymore. My first disappointment of the trip came when Anchor Bar at the Buffalo Airport was closed. This isn't the disappointment of a man who thinks Anchor Bar is the best wings on earth-- I'm a recent Duff's convert, sorry not sorry-- but rather the disappointment of a guy on a keto diet who can only eat so many things. One disappointing Chicken Souvlaki salad later from some other place, and bam, you're stuck waiting at the airport for a while.

What's the deal with masks (Seinfeld voice)??? Are people actually wearing them?

Well, I was at least...

Hoya Saxa!

I'll answer the question quickly based on region:

1) Buffalo Airport: Not in the terminal when sitting, but when walking.

2) Dulles Airport: You know, I have no idea, I was in a pretty big hurry, more on that later

3) Brussels Airport: If you don't wear a mask on or near airport grounds at all times, you get shot.

4) London Airport: Feels like most major cities in the US-- people have them draped about, but put them on for politeness occasionally.

5) Cork so far: Not that much...

Anyhow, I'll skip most of the Buffalo flight-related stuff. What sucks, as I would discover, is the paperwork. Even with transit countries (aka, you're there for a couple of hours while waiting for your flight) you have to fill out additional paperwork. For Brussels, this meant filling out a lengthy form that a man in a yellow jacket would later tell me "oh, you don't need that". For London, it was not only compulsory and lengthy (I filled it out on my phone in front of transit customs), but accompanied by quite an invasive interview. Not about "what am I doing in England", but "what I planned to do in Ireland". Why do you care? I'm out of here in 2 hours tops. The Irish one I had filled out in advance, and seems at the moment a mere formality from which there will be no actual follow up. Could be wrong here though!

Anyhow, paperwork aside, I was grateful to have business class (thanks United miles!) for the long legs of this trip. But more than the creature comforts of typical flight, I was really struck by the sadness of it all.

Before I get into the sad shit though, peep the creature comforts. 2x bourbons ftw!

What's sad is the whole airline industry is clearly in serious effing trouble. No plane I was on had more than a dozen to 20 passengers regardless of size. I overheard the grounds crew saying on my flight from London to Cork that they're actually going to cancel this flight soon, as it was consistently at <30% capacity. I would have loved, and prayed for this, once upon a time. But I can keep big picture stuff in mind and see that this will erode the ability for gypsy souls like myself to wander the globe eventually unless something changes. For another sad sign, see the formerly communal piano for passers by in the Brussels airport now shuttered #pianomanproblems

Unspoken around all this is you have to wear a mask without interruption for almost the sum total of your travel. 18 hours of my very pretty, suffocating mask. Now, there are the usual exceptions, if you're eating and drinking, and you'd think I'd try and up those opportunities (I sure tried!) but airlines are consistently providing less service now because they need extra time for sanitization (totally on board, btw). But just saying, if you plan to travel in the near future, choose your mask(s) wisely.

That being said, the plus side is the customs lines are nearly non-existent. The interviews are a bit more lengthy though when you quickly get there. Questions like "you have your flight out of here, right", "where are you staying" get additional follow-ups, followed by confirmations of your knowledge of the target country's COVID policy. Which really makes me wish the US was on the "Green List" for Ireland so I could avoid this whole 2 week quarantine assache.

Enfin je suis arrivé (only in French because I'm desperately tired and need to amuse myself)

Did it all melt away immediately once I grabbed my bags and headed out the door? I'd love to say yes, but I'd say it was more of a hydroxychloroquine-level relief vs. an actual vaccine relief. A lengthy convo with the taxi-driver on the 10-minute drive to my flat (god, it seemed so long, Irish people can really chat) revealed that just like in the states, Irish pubs and bars are doing their darndest to skirt rules around ordering food with alcohol, maximum capacity, and similar. He highlighted a few local restaurants around my place I should check out as well, then talked about Robert De Niro's new movie for some reason for at least half the time.

In any case, I arrived at my flat and dropped my shit off almost immediately and collapsed. After a 20 minute break, I decided to venture forth and take my one "essential" outside visit of the day to the English market so I could pick up some food.

This walk-- a scant 10-15 minute amble depending on if I can remember exactly how to go-- is reinvigorating. Couple shots from it below

I picked up an official, overpriced English market bag so I could actually carry groceries back to my place, and toted just a few items home so I could cook dinner.

It don't get more official than this.

I don't want to spoil another potential song title subject line, but to quote that redheaded musical from the 20s, "I think I'm gonna like it here".

That optimism faded briefly as I accidentally tripped the circuit breaker at my place-- tip to the wise, don't try and plug heavy duty american power strips into irish power sockets-- but I actually was handy and reset that pretty quickly. All's well that lets me charge my shit. Plus, hey, the internet here is pretty effing solid, and that's really all I require for a bit. Excited for whatever sleep I get tonight, and grateful the hard part of the journey is over.

Random pics:

Not just a stripper name anymore!

Ok, so I ate Kebab meat (not the pita, dont worry mom) instead of cooking. I deserve it!