Old and Gray

Howth, Ireland, is a small fishing town on the eastern coast, just north of Dublin.  I went to the front desk of my hostel and asked the man working if he had any suggestions for day trips.  He listed a few places and a girl behind me chimed in with Howth.  She told me she’d been in Ireland for 10 days and out of all her day trips, Howth was her favorite.  So, we decided to take her advice and bought train tickets the next morning.  It was 2.70 one-way, so I figured even if it wasn’t all that great, at least I wasn’t breaking the bank to get there.

The train there was fairly tarnished, oddly small - hardly any cars - and stopped frequently at teeny towns.  About 35 minutes passed and the train arrived in Howth.  I loved the town from the minute I stepped out of the train station.  Immediately outside was a fresh market set up with trinkets and vegetables, run by chatty, kind, authentic Irishmen.  Once through there the town was lined with local shops and restaurants.  All along the water were outdoor restaurants, crowded with locals, serving up fresh seafood.  Seals swam by the pier and oversized white masts filled the sky.  The edge of the town was cliffs along the ocean, creating a beautiful backdrop for the perfect town.  Everything about Howth was charming. 

We sat at the end of a dock with our boots dangling over the water and the seals beneath our feet. We just basked in the sun in silence for close to an hour, it was a gorgeous day and I was in great company.  We asked someone where we should go for lunch and the told us to go to Summit Inn.  She said we could either walk up the road for about 15 minutes or we could take the scenic route along the cliffs and it’d take about an hour and a half. We chose the road less traveled.

The cliffs were unreal.  The sky was so clear at one point I looked out on the ocean and honestly couldn’t tell where the skyline met the water because it was so blue.  The water was clear as could be and small boats filtered in an out routinely.  Being so caught up in the beauty of our hike, we clearly missed the turn to the restaurant because we found ourselves at the foot of a lighthouse that was a few miles away from the Summit Inn. Great.  We trekked through thorn bushes, flowers, and mud to get there, making our own path, but it was such a spectacular day I couldn’t even be upset.  The laughs were rolling by the time we got to the restaurant and the food was unbeatable.  Their homemade chowder was the best I’d ever had and the grilled chicken quesadilla was just the right fix for my [never-ending] Mexican cravings.

We went back to the town by the road, giving our tired legs a rest, bought a bottle of white wine, and shared it on a bench by docks, watching the sunset.  The time I spent in Howth was indescribable and unforgettable.  My sister, Mackenzie, just got engaged a few days before and I spent so much time thinking about the wedding and how happy I am for her.  I rarely send texts just because of the international rate, but I sent her a text saying, “I think I finally found my favorite place – Howth, Ireland.  We’re going to come here together one day when our kiddies are grown and we’re old and gray. I love you and could not be happier for you.” To finish off the trip and officially make it one of the best trips ever, I got a strawberry milkshake at a cutesy café on the way to the train station.  The small, rusty, old train didn’t even faze me on the way home. I just gazed out into the inky sky, speckled with white stars, and thought, “Yup, definitely not in Kansas,” and smiled. 

The train tickets cost us €5.40 round trip, but I would’ve paid anything.  I wish I could’ve spent more time there, but we were leaving for Paris in the morning so it wasn’t even an option.  The friendly, whimsical town of Howth will just have to wait another decade or so for my next visit, and hopefully, Mackenzie will be with me. 

Roman Ruin

Rome, Roma, the capital of Italy, The Eternal City, The City of Fountains, the city of…everything.  I had never been to Rome before this weekend, just heard the history class tales of the relentless Roman Empire, fearless gladiators, the benevolent Pope, sparkling fountains, timeless architecture and other sensational features.  The phrase goes, “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” well, I saw it in one day, with a finale I will never forget – for better, or for worse.

Some people would probably say I missed out on things by covering it all in one day. I have to admit, I did not see the Pantheon, but that’s the only thing I didn’t hit on my list and I would not trade my hours spent in the Vatican for anything.  Since being abroad I have learned the importance of researching a destination prior to arriving.  I have a friend who lived in Rome and sent me some fabulous restaurants and undiscovered spots.  I researched sights, weather, tour guides, apartments, hours of operation, and everything between. I was ready to take on Rome.

My friends and I stayed in an apartment just a block from the Spanish Steps.  Fabulous location, not so fabulous décor, and the landlord stole €50 from me after he drunkenly let us inside at the midnight hour.  The main attractions were somewhat far from our apartment, but we were willing to make the trek in order to take in all the scenery.  Rome was stunning.  I can literally think of no other word.  The architecture was a romantic style and reminded me of Vienna.  Large, pristine buildings made of soft-colored stone with protruding cornerstones.  As captivating as the refined of parts of town are, they are merely a backdrop for the historical sights and ancient ruins.

The first real sight I saw was the capitol, il Vittoriano a Roma.  I’ve been told Washington DC was designed in a manner to intimidate outsiders.  From the layout of the roads, to the positioning of the Washington Monument, the White House, and other large memorials, DC’s goal was to demonstrate authority.  The capitol in Rome was no different.  I was humbled by the size and polish of the building. The guise of the statues was overwhelming, as was the power of the large Italian flags, waving proudly in the wind against the cerulean sky.  The stairs, the columns, the roofline, the size: all almost too great to take in.

Moving forward from the capitol, we casually passed by old ruins, Roman and Imperial Forums, even Julius Caesar’s grave was in the mix. With the ruins on my rights and the bustling street and city line to my left, it felt as though I was in an some kind of a dream; a make-believe city.  It is hard to imagine the time and effort that goes into the upkeep and restoration of landmarks that are as ancient as those in Rome.  The city does a spectacular job at keeping the balance of “old and new” Rome, I think.  The city is lively with tourists and business travelers, both seeking completely different things, yet both found in this historical hub of a city.

Finally I arrive at the Colosseum and catch a deal with an outside tour group. Although I have been told to be wary of groups outside of attractions, because they can be scams, this group had badges and did not except money until in the office inside the Colosseum.  For about €5 more, I was able to cut all lines and have a live tour guide, rather than used headphones and an automated voice.  The infrastructure of the Colosseum was vastly different than I had pictured. The underground level looked like a maze. Tall, narrow brick walls reached up to where the ground would have been laid, and grass-lined ground wove between the models.  The bricks were polished but I learned that the Colosseum was originally made of Travertine, and the bricks that laid beneath are now the surface.  I also learned it's the shape it is today because the builders took off [sections of] the marble from the Colosseum and used it for St. Peter's.

Trevi Fountain

Onto all the famous spots from here: the Trevi Fountain, Fontana di Trevi, the Piazza Navona and Piazza del Popolo,  Castel Sant’Angelo and Vatican City.  A student deal was a must for the Vatican – we cut the never-ending lines, got a two-hour tour including the Vatican museums, the Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s Basilica, all finished just in time for me to stop at the gift shop and get Rosaries blessed by the Pope for my sister.  Not a bad afternoon.  The two hours inside flew by.  I felt so immersed and engaged in the Roman history, I kept scooting to the front of the group to ensure I could see and hear everything.  I can’t even begin to describe the paintings, cravings and artifacts, my words will do them no justice; it is something you must see for yourself to understand the true splendor and beauty of it.

Looking out on Vatican City

Sunset on St. Peter's

The sun set just perfectly on Vatican City as we were leaving, a perfect goodbye.  The group headed to Hotel Eden, one of the spots my friend had recommended.  She said, “coming from someone who had Rome as their backyard, the best view of it is from the sixth floor of Hotel Eden...at sunset.  Some aperitifs and 'ritzy snacks' - you honestly won't want to leave. You must go.” So I went.  360-degrees of just windows looking out on one of the most gorgeous skylines I think I’ll ever see.  I remember thinking, “how can a city as big and busy as Rome seem so peaceful?”  The "cheapest" drink was a casual €18, but the view was priceless and quickly cancelled out the price (that and the free hors d'oeuvres!).

We walked back to our stuck-in-the-70s apartment, freshened up, and headed to cozy outside Roman restaurant we had spotted earlier.  The best pasta I have had in Italy thus far was there. A gnocchi with radiccio, tyrol sausage and a gorgonzola sauce – divine.  I had a terrible case of the 24-hour stomach flu the day before, so I only had about a glass of wine at dinner, and for this I am thankful.  I pulled out my phone to check the time while the girls were finishing off the last bottle of wine and before anyone could even ask why I was pale and shaking  I quickly ran out of the restaurant.  I had just received a text from my friend from home saying, “Ken, my mom died” and when I didn’t immediately respond she said, “This isn’t a joke. Please call me.” The third time I tried to get through I got a hold of her and I cannot divulge into the conversation without getting emotional, so I’m not going to get into it.  The day was an amazing, but long, and this just brought my exhaustion to a whole new level. 

I was going to go back to the apartment but everyone thought it would be better if I was surrounded by people so I would be distracted.  We found a bar called Scholars that had ESPN America and was playing the KU/Texas game.  It was an incredible game, but my mind was not there, it was back in Kansas with Lane and her family.

Sunday was dreary, it drizzled all day. It felt so symbolic of my emotions. I had a test and presentation the next morning and all I wanted to do was get back so I could prepare for them, but once I got back my work-mode was not much of a mode.  Although Rome and all it’s glory was spectacular, my own Roman ruin made the trip a little bittersweet. I’m not in Kansas anymore, and for once, there is no place I would rather be. 

Laney, my thoughts and prayers are with you. 

The Kennedy Battery

Cold days: heavy lungs, deep breaths.  Warm days: tight chest, quick breaths.  All days: loose-laced sneakers, one piece of gum, Rumours album by Fleetwood Mac blaring, and I’m ready to go.  Running is something I do regardless of the weather, regardless of my mood, and something that always helps my personal ambiance. 

Doctors advise against them, I swear by them: loose laces

Distance is my specialty, and it has been fine-tuned since being in Italy.  Towns strung together by narrow roads, surrounded by open fields and wineries, steeples appear to be calling my name miles away, and the temperature always seems to be just right.  Although my work out regimen is not much of a regimen at all, if it’s a blue-sky day, I try and run.  The mountains create the issue of altitude and uneven terrain,  but the views and seemingly endless roads make up for it.  At school and back at home I have such a system with my running.  I have marked out the two or three routes I like best, know the exact distances and time it takes to complete, but have sadly found myself losing some of the spirit.  Running on another continent just may have solved my problem.

My iPhone is also my iPod, so because I cannot use it over here, when I run here it's a treat to tote it around.  I usually crave music when I’m running, and depending on my mindset, the genre changes.  I like the beats in rock, rap, and, surprisingly, mellow.  But for being such a music junkie, I have been surprised by my enthusiasm when I find my phone dead, meaning I run without music.

My phone screen...take the family with me everywhere

The quiet of the mountains overwhelms me when I run.  The further I run, the less cars I see, the more peaceful my journey becomes.  The crispy melody of my shoes on the dirt road, the sun on my shoulders, and I’m in a whole new world. As I move away from the town and through the mountains I love seeing the rolling, green hills, filled with sparse vineyards, horses, work sheds, and every thing between.  My runs through the nearby towns are more like running at home, yet not at all.  There is the bustle of cars, trucks, stores, bikers, church bells and all that comes with a "city."  But at the same time, the towns are so much more quaint and compact; they are unlike any other area I've run through. 

My "half-way spot" is always strategically selected, and usually from a far; creating a goal for me to strive to attain.  If I'm in the mountains, I try to look for an open area with one dominant object near it (tractor, shed, large tree, etc).  I will stop there, sit, stretch, pray, and then sit.  It's usually a ten minute stop, and it's so calming, it is literally like I have recharged the Kennedy battery, and I'm ready for the remainder of my run and the end of my day.  If I'm going the town route, I stick to the church steeples; they are elevated and I've found that most the towns have at least one.  My stops there might be my favorite because I miss going to church so much, and I feel my thoughts are based on everyone at home I'm missing and praying for while I'm away.

Option A: 

Option B:

A fully-charged Kennedy Battery

For being one of the most generic activities, running is one of the most personal times for me.  It's more than an exercise, it's a learning experience, a spiritual time and a passion.  Each run evokes different thoughts, but I always revert to the same "place," that calm, homey, memory lane, when I hit my "half-way spot."  I'm not in Kansas anymore, but even I can't run from the memories of it.