The Last Day
Today, January 25th, was our last day in Ireland. I think I can speak for everyone when I say this trip truly was an amazing and transformative experience. The majority of the class woke up bright and early this morning to (frantically) take our final exam. We sat down in the hotel restaurant and furiously scribbled for two hours – and after that, everyone went on their last adventure in Ireland. Some people went out for some traditional Irish music, others went for a last Irish stew, and yet others took an Irish nap.
I decided to do the blog post today because I had a unique “last adventure” in Ireland. After I finished the exam, I jogged up to my room and changed clothes. I had been asking people for spare Euro coins all morning, and thankfully our awesome Professor Steveo had some for me. I put all of them in my pockets and set out to figure out how on earth to ride the Dublin Bus, for today I planned to go outside the city and ride a horse in the Irish countryside.
I found my way to the bus stop at Merion Square – here the 44 bus would come and pick me up and hopefully take me to Stepaside, where I would have a 30 minute walk to the stables. I stood at the bus stop, shivering as I asked people if they too were trying to ride the 44 bus. Finally, I saw the bus swing around the bend, and then, right past me.
“Hey!” I shouted, jumping into action and running after the bus. Luckily, it halted and I quickly ran inside. I paid the bus driver after telling him the incorrect destination I was going to (oops) and took my seat. The Dublin Bus goes much faster than I expected. If the passengers don’t press the “stop” button for their stop, the Bus zooms past. I was lucky I caught it at all.
After about forty minutes the bus came to my stop – Enniskerry Road in Stepaside. I hopped off and started my trek to the stables. Well, what Google Maps did not tell me was that my 2.5 kilometer walk was up a mountain and that there were no sidewalks to speak of. I walked and jogged for about forty minutes until I saw the sign for Paddocks Riding Centre. By the time I got there I practically cheered when I saw the sign, because it was so windy my face felt like it was going to fall off.
I met my guide, a girl named Sarah who is an exchange student from Germany. She is also a Computer Science major, graduating this year! I like to think she was the blonde, German version of me. Either way, I grabbed my pony – a white Connemara named Snowy – and tacked him up. I hopped on and followed Sarah, who was riding a slightly bigger pony. We walked up a narrow path into a massive forest on the mountains. We followed a dirt path uphill until we made it onto a more flat, gravel area. Then, Sarah turned back to me and asked “Ready to trot?” I nodded.
We both started off at a sprightly trot, with my pony trying to quickly catch up with hers. I noticed her glancing back at me a few times, before we went back to a walk. “You know,” she told me, “A lot of people who say they have ridden before can’t ride at all. One girl said she had been riding since she was 3, but she could not control her horse at all. I’m glad that you can actually ride.”
We continued up the mountain to another more flat area, where she asked if I wanted to canter. Of course I nodded, and she spurred her pony forward. I followed after her, only to find that she did not at all mean “canter” – she meant “gallop as fast as possible.” Snowy exploded into a gallop, trying to catch the other horse, and I leaned forward and held on. It was awesome. When we reached the top of the mountain, the wind became insanely strong – so strong I wouldn’t be surprised if it blew both myself and Snowy clear off the mountain. The views from that high up were incredible. I could see all of Dublin, and the ocean, and probably also North America.
We cantered around at the top before we turned back, going down a different way that was so steep I had to lean my shoulders back practically to Snowy’s hindquarters. We walked back into the forest again, and Sarah turned around on her pony. “Do you want to do a jump?” I was a little hesitant at first – after all, I was in a foreign country on a pony I had only ever ridden for the last forty minutes. Then again, it was the last time I’d ever be able to jump a horse in Ireland, so I agreed.
“Just something small,” I said, still cautious.
“Yeah, it’s just a fallen tree!” she assured me, before turning onto another path. By the time I saw that “just a fallen tree” was a way bigger jump than I thought, both our ponies had already taken off galloping again. Snowy galloped to the tree and leaped over it. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. We jumped it once more and then headed back down the mountain.
After a few more gallops, we finally made our way back to the stables. It was probably one of the most exhilarating experiences I have ever had, and one of the best rides as well. It was the perfect way, in my opinion, to spend the last day in Ireland.
Tomorrow, our class will be headed back to the States bright and early in the morning.
-Elena
P.S. I’ll miss ya, Ireland.