“I stay out too late, got nothing in my brain, that’s what people say mmhmm…that’s what people say mmhmm…”
Thirty-two pairs of eyes stared at us with passing side glances from people who had no idea why two grown women were belting out pop songs on a street corner, as we kept cruisin’ and could not, would not stop movin’.
The eyes belonged to our ten and eleven-year old students, perched on the concrete steps. My co-worker and I kept singing the Taylor Swift lyrics and dancing along to our own music, “saying it’s gonna be alright.”
Ask any of my past selves if I thought I’d be singing pop songs for a bunch of kids, stone cold sober on a busy street corner in Dublin and I would have said…“Me singing? In public? At a venue that isn’t the confines of my empty flat or at an alcohol-infused karaoke night? Hell no!”
But that’s why I love travel. It puts you in situations you couldn’t imagine and challenges you in ways that you and no one else, for that matter, can challenge you.
So, how did I arrive at this unforeseen moment in time, other than the fact that my school sent my coworkers and me to chaperone a 4th grade class in Dublin, Ireland and me saying, “I get paid to travel? Sounds great!?”
We had had a busy few days in Dublin, exploring the city in surprisingly perfect, sunny, rain-free weather, a rare-occasion that lasted for only the duration of our trip, lucky for us. We had chaperoned thirty-two kids on double-decker buses to and from school, taken them to the interactive Dublinia Viking Museum, herded them on a train out to the seaside, and let them play in various parks to get their energy out, so they wouldn’t disturb the guests at the too-fancy-for-a-school-trip-hotel we were staying at. As the chaperones, we’d also had some time off, while the kids were at English lessons taught by Irish teachers. We explored the city on foot, wandered into the famous Temple Bar, checked out the Jameson Distillery Tour, and completed a brisk cliff-side walk by the sea.
So far, so good, we thought. Sunday, was our last day, so we took the kids to the famous zoo in Pheonix Park. We ushered the kids through the zoo and past the different exhibits all morning, until finally, faces flushed, longing for a seat or some shade, with damp shirts from walking in the hot sun, it was time for lunch. The plan was to eat at a restaurant at the zoo, but after dragging our feet there, we found the place to be too expensive, crowded, and overall, too hectic to accommodate our large group.
Our options were limited in the giant park, with only small pubs and cafes dotting the perimeter. After some phone-checking and discussion, it was decided that we would get Subway sandwiches for the students and find a place to eat them. Once again, on the move, we trudged out of the park. After walking for about twenty minutes and kids asking about when we were going to take a bus because they were tired, we reached the corner, a few meters from the Subway. Knowing it would be too small to fit all of us inside, it was decided that the kids could wait on the concrete steps of a stern-looking concrete judicial building at the corner.
Next thing we knew, the other teachers had left to order the sandwiches and bottles of water and my coworker and I were there with a bunch of kids. We had time to kill and nothing to do, but wait. As anyone who works with kids knows, give them a park and they’ll have fun for hours, give kids a limited area and some concrete steps and you may be in for chaos.
None of them wanted to sit there anymore or even cared about food. They were tired and wanted to go back to the hotel. The kids sat there looking at us and we looked back at the kids, a Waiting for Godot, existential crisis-cloud hovering in the air. Somehow, our
Beckett Plaque
Beckett-style explanation of what exactly we were doing there on the steps and that the other teachers were coming back soon with food and water turned into us belting out Taylor Swift. The kids watched, laughing, smiling, and some even sang along. After our rendition of “Shake it Off,” they threw out other names of pop songs and yelled for an encore of our first act. We tried our best with the lyrics and encouraged the kids to come up and sing with us. Most of them were too shy, but one of the best moments was when one student came up to sing and continued to sing with us, smiling more than I’d ever seen at school, as he thought up more pop songs to sing.
I saw people walk by out of the corners of my eyes and cars with their windows open, aware that everyone was staring at us, two young women (one probably slightly out of tune) belting their lungs out on this random street corner. Groups of decked-out music festival-goers passed by as we were in the middle of attending and performing at our own music festival of sorts.
At some point, a couple of the kids, perhaps embarrassed for us and aware of the passersby stares, came up to whisper in our ears, “people think you’re crazy.”
“It’s okay,” we’d reply and went back to singing every current pop song we could think of and actually knew the words to (which is more difficult than one would think, with all the EDM mixes). After fifteen-twenty minutes of dancing and singing and thoroughly enjoying the impromptu moments with my coworker and our students, the magic wore off. We were running out of pop songs, the kids were getting restless, and our voices were getting hoarse.
The rest of the time until our coworkers came back passed slowly, but we had killed time made the most of a less than ideal situation, bonded with the kids, and had a blast while being confident in our crazy performer personas.
Later that evening, I had the same travel-inspired energy. Over the past few days, our bus had passed a bar with the same name as some of my family and ancestors. I knew I had Irish ancestry on both sides of the family and decided that I had to check out the bar at some point. There was an hour left before our last dinner at the hotel. The kids and my coworkers, all exhausted, were resting in their rooms. I was tired too, but my inner-curiosity buzzed at me, until my feet were walking briskly out the door and down the street. For some reason, being in a different city is like a free-pass card with an extra shot of confidence. Maybe, it’s that you’re all on your own or that your adrenaline is pumping, or that you’re a bit more perceptive, as well as alert. I like to do lots of things alone, and often do, but going to a bar by myself is usually not one of them. Here I was, charging towards this random Irish bar, unaware of who or what I would find inside at 6:00 P.M. on a Sunday evening, but dammit, I was going.
I admired the green trees hanging over the streets and the quaint brick flats with their small, but colorful doors. At last, I spotted the bar, snapped a couple of pics and pulled open the door, eager to get inside. Why couldn’t I walk into a bar alone in Prague this confidently?, I wondered to myself. Blame it on the travel-high!
I pulled open the door and marched into a room decorated in a deep mahogany wood. There was one stool open at the bar, full of elderly men sipping beers and watching golf on TV. I didn’t have any prior expectations as to what I would discover in the bar, but this scenario surprised me anyway. I asked a man if I could sit at the open stool, and he 
responded that it was free. I ordered a Jameson from the bartender and looked around at the golf-decor. Not my sport of choice, but whatever, I was in a bar with the same name as my ancestors, in a country where some of them are from, on a paid trip, sipping whiskey. Luck of the Irish, I suppose. 😉 I began chatting with the bartender and the man next to me, about how I ended up there, the history of the bar, and chuckling a bit about American politics. Soon, a couple other guys joined in the conversation as we chatted and drank until I had to execute an Irish goodbye far from being in line with society’s definition (where I said goodbye to everyone) and then ran out the door to get to dinner on time.
Once again, travel had put me to the test, and I had risen to accept the challenge, making a complete fool of myself, but creating connections and pushing through my own awkwardness nonetheless. With more tickets booked and future travels on the horizon, I’m excited to get back to my un-comfort zone where chaos, creativity, and (hopefully) newfound confidence awaits.
Hope you’re all having a nice Tuesday! XO -Mel
Móda Mel 