I Also Went to Ireland to Fix Myself

Reflections on solo travel and becoming someone new.

I knew I wanted to solo travel full-time for the foreseeable future, but not where to go first. I renewed my passport in January, picked Ireland over Egypt in February, and made all the arrangements in March. I booked my flight about a week in advance, and if I wouldn’t have procrastinated so long, I could’ve afforded a plane ticket that included a checked bag. I surrendered to packing extra light.

As someone who plans luxury vacations for a living, I rarely offer myself the same comforts as my clients, friends, and family. This lack of self-care, helping everyone but myself, might be my biggest reason for leaving. And, according to the girlies on TikTok, I’m not the only one. I laughed out loud at one comment, “I also went to Ireland to fix myself.”

But, as you might have guessed, I didn’t ease into solo travel or my first destination. I landed in Dublin (DUB) around 9am on no sleep and without any of my usual coping mechanisms. Emanating anxiety, I went straight from the airport to a bus, from the bus to Connolly Station, and from there to Belfast Grand Central Station.

Belfast

I walked into the lobby of Room2 Belfast Hometel around 2pm, smelling horrible and looking even worse, to be greeted by Nathan at the front desk. My room wasn’t ready, so he politely asked what I had planned for my time in Belfast. I mentioned the full-day Giant’s Causeway tour I had booked, but asked for his recommendations. I do this wherever I go, whether I have time for additional activities or not, because locals can give you better information than any Google Search ever will. 

Among a few other things like the Titanic Museum, he mentioned a Black Taxi Tour, adding that Americans typically enjoy hearing about the area's contentious politics from the drivers. After I briefly shared my opinion on the current state of U.S. and world politics, he granted me early check-in and a complimentary room upgrade. Maybe it was the stench coming from my armpits or the carry-on-sized bags under my eyes, but I like to think Nathan rewarded me for being a good person. 

My keycard let me into a stylish Loft Room with a kitchen, which ended up being one of the greatest surprises of the trip. I unpacked and took a much-needed shower. Although I had no appetite, because of the aforementioned anxiety, I went to UrbanFresh, a locally-owned supermarket just a few steps away. I spent the evening in a staring contest with a bowl of miso ramen and my cell phone. A video I recorded in Chicago (ORD), and posted to TikTok using the spotty Aer Lingus in-flight wifi I paid $15 for, went semi-viral. By the time I got into bed, I had 150,000 views, 3,000 new followers, and 1,000 comments. 

In the morning, I got up after another sleepless night, not because the bed wasn’t comfortable or because the TikTok comments were too mean, but because I typically fall asleep to the sweet sensation of weed gummies in my tummy. And, the cherry on top of my i-want-to-scream sundae, my period and her painful cramps checked-in downstairs. I seriously debated skipping the 9-hour Giant’s Causeway tour with McComb’s Coach Travel. 

But maybe I was more afraid of sitting alone in my hotel room than I was of wasting $47. So I got my butt out of bed and into the nearest Starbucks for something familiar, breaking my years-long boycott. The taste of my iced latte was recognizable, but my breakfast sandwich was not nearly as processed as I needed it to be. I took one bite and put the rest in my backpack. It rode with me to our first stop, Carrickfergus Castle, where I tossed in the trash. 

My seat mate was another twenty-something solo female traveler from Krakow, Poland. Our driver was Patrick, who had to have the “gift of the gab” and the “luck of the Irish” to be driving down the narrow country roads and talking a mile a minute. If my anxiety wasn’t bad enough already, I spent the whole ride imagining a dramatic coach bus crash. Unsurprisingly, as promised by the thousands of five-star reviews on Viator, we made it back safely. 

At our second stop, Carnlough Harbor, I promptly found the nearest pharmacy before taking any photographs. Near tears, I told the pharmacist about my problems and she listened. I stocked up on daytime anti-anxiety tablets, extra-strength sleep aid pills, a daily multivitamin, and feminine hygiene products. All of that for only 10 minutes and $20. 

We got back on the bus and continued to our next stop, Portaneevy ViewPoint for Carrick-a-Rede Ropebridge, where I estimate our tour group collectively took over a hundred photos. My mom got to walk across this bridge during her tour of Northern Ireland in 2018, but since the COVID-19 pandemic, it has been closed to large coach bus tour groups. Instead, we went to lunch. 

Most of the group pre-ordered their meal from The Fullerton Arms with Patrick on the bus. Being relatively crowd-averse, especially in tiny Irish dining establishments, I went across the street to Carrick-a-Rede Bar & Restaurant, where my seat mate joined me in sitting outside. I had water and a panini; she had a Guinness and cigarettes. At that moment, I thought I might be treating my stress and anxiety all wrong. 

Our next stop, Giant’s Causeway, a World Heritage Site with around 40,000 interlocking basalt columns of cooled molten lava, was the highlight of the tour. With the two hours allotted, I followed Patrick’s advice up the Red Trail along the cliff's edge, then down the Shepherd's Steps on the Blue Trail to the formations, and back to the visitors center. I even had enough time to pop into the Causeway Hotel gift shop before getting back on the bus. 

Our last few stops were short and sweet. First, Bushmills Distillery. Then, Dunluce Castle. And finally, The Dark Hedges. I’m not a superfan of whiskey or Game of Thrones, but I took the photos anyway. Not every stop will be everyone’s favorite, but I would recommend this tour without hesitation. My advice? Get to the bus early, sit as close to the front as possible, and pick a window seat on the right side. 

Dublin

That evening, I learned I couldn’t take a sleep aid pill after the anti-anxiety tablets, so I suffered through another restless night. The next morning, I ate as much complimentary breakfast as I could before catching a train back to Dublin. From Connolly Station, I walked to Clink i Lár Hostel, where I had reserved a bed in an all-girls dorm. I hadn’t stayed in a hostel since 2018, and never in a girls-only room, so I was really excited to meet and socialize with other solo female travelers. 

Again I arrived about an hour before check-in officially started, and in stark contrast to the hospitality I found in Belfast, nothing in this hostel was free. Early check-in, towels, toiletries, breakfast, and tours were all offered for an additional fee. Even the portable phone chargers available in the lobby were rented out by the hour. I sat upstairs until exactly 3pm, eating some train station snacks. 

I made the mistake of waiting a minute too long to go back downstairs. There were dozens of people and twice as many backpacks in the lobby crowding the check-in kiosks. I channeled a patience I didn’t know I had and 30 minutes later, thanks in part to their painfully slow elevators, I was in my room on the 9th floor. And I was rewarded yet again, this time with a bottom bunk. 

I ventured out across Ha’Penny Bridge and over to Temple Bar, where I had some pizza at Pi across from The Temple Bar. I passed on seeing the Guinness Storehouse (I don’t even like beer) and the Book of Kells (overpriced, if you ask me), even though I thought the content might have been worth it. Ireland keeps telling me, over and over again, that not every “must-see” needs to be my must-see.

I’ll be flying from Dublin (DUB) to Edinburg (EDI) at the end of the month. I want to visit the Irish Emigration Museum to learn more about my ancestors, like my great-great-great grandparents Mary McPartlin and Thomas Corrigan, who came to the America in the mid-1800s. Also, an old friend of mine lives in New York now, so I’m going to ask if she’ll meet me at The Portal. With that in mind, I returned to the hostel for a disappointingly silent night in my room. My roommates didn’t speak to me, I didn’t speak to them, and they didn’t speak to each other.  

Galway

After a couple hours of sleep, I packed up again and walked back to the train station. I might be more familiar with Connolly Station than I am with Dublin City Centre at this point. Nonetheless, I boarded the train to Ceannt Station. Across the street, on the corner of Eyre Square, is Galway City Hostel, where I had reserved a bed in a mixed dorm. I walked in, again around 2 pm, just as the housekeepers were finishing my room. Thankfully, the friendly staff let me check in early and said I could pick any bed. They also told me about their free breakfast, “Tea & Treats” in the afternoon, and group dinner in the evenings. This was the hospitality I was looking for in Dublin. 

Before my sad excuse for another night’s sleep, I got dressed in my nicest outfit and walked through Eyre Square to The Sweater Shop, a family-owned business specializing in Aran knitwear. I purchased a colorful pair of wool socks and a knitted sheep keychain, obviously both made in Ireland. I will shamelessly admit, this purchase was specifically driven by a TikTok I saw about Erin Knitwear’s version of Labubus, affectionately called “LaBaaBaas.”

With a gift bag in hand, I went next door to another family-owned business, a vegetarian restaurant called Food 4 Thought. I sat outside to enjoy the wonderful weather and, more importantly, the vibe. After a delicious panini with salad and crisps, I strolled back to the hostel. On the way, I made sure to stop and listen to some talented local kids busking in the street. 

I settled into a bottom bunk in my room on the first floor, located just across from reception and the kitchen. This was convenient, as there was no elevator. However, the noise from the crosswalk signal outside followed by the live music from Darcy’s Bar downstairs kept me up. If that wasn’t enough, a man checked into my room around 2am. I kept my curtains closed, and thankfully, he kept to himself. 

In the morning, I found myself in a familiar situation: feeling tired but awake and hungry but nauseous. Yet again, I seriously debated skipping the full-day Cliffs of Moher tour I had booked with Galway Tour Company. But this tour cost $94 and I couldn’t bear to waste it. I sipped on a glass of orange juice and slapped raspberry jam on a piece of Irish soda bread before leaving to locate my tour bus. 

I showed up early, sat as close to the front of the bus as possible, and chose a window seat on the right side. Our driver, Anthony, left right on time and took us down the Wild Atlantic Way towards Doolin. We boarded the Doolin Ferry to Inis Oírr (Inisheer), one of the Aran Islands. I made sure to bring Dramamine, but thankfully, I didn’t have to use it. This was my first ever ferry ride and I felt that I’d been rewarded once more, this time with perfect weather.  

After a much needed latte from Cafe Úna, I rented a bike from Joyce’s Bike Hire in the hopes of cycling to a seal colony. Unfortunately, I didn’t see any seals. So I cycled back to the other side of the island to see the remains of a 1960 shipwreck washed ashore. This is the only way I want to see a shipwreck. If I have any phobias, it’s thalassophobia. I haven’t always been anxious, but diving into the Atlantic Ocean, or any deep body of water for that matter, is something I’ve never been particularly interested in. 

We boarded the ferry back to Doolin for lunch at McGann’s Pub. On the way, we enjoyed a short, narrated tour of the Cliffs of Moher from the water. It’s easy to see why this 8-mile stretch of coastline with a 700-foot drop into the Atlantic is preserved as a UNESCO Global Geopark.

At the pub, our 50-person group filed out of the bus and into a tiny corner. I was grouped with two girls from New York and a guy from Japan. I felt a bit of jealousy being in such close proximity to great friends who travel together and set a goal to make a few travel friends of my own. Our table discussed the strange phenomenon of police patches, mostly American, stapled to the walls of every pub we’ve collectively stepped foot in. It’s a mystery I have yet to get to the bottom of.

After lunch, Anthony drove us up to explore the Cliffs from above for about an hour. I saw a flock of sheep with lambs and thought to myself, if I haven’t already been an animal grazing cliffside in an Irish past life, that is what I will choose for my next one. Experiences like this give a person perspective and that, in my opinion, is priceless. 

It was already dark outside by the time we pulled back into Galway. I was truly hungry for the first time since I left home. In an act of desperation, I ordered my usual from a kiosk at the closest McDonald’s and it was exactly as processed as I needed it to be. When I returned to my room, the man from the night before had already checked out and no one else had checked in! This would be my last night alone for quite some time and so I cherished it. 

Inis Mór

I woke up with a nervous excitement to take another ferry, this time from Rossaveal; back to the Aran Islands, this time to Inis Mór (Inishmore). A few weeks prior, I arranged to be a volunteer housekeeper through Worldpackers at Kilronan Hostel in exchange for free accommodation, food, bike rentals, and laundry. After about two hours of cleaning six days per week, the rest of my days would be free. This sounded like the perfect way to spend five weeks working remotely to build my book of business as a travel advisor. Little did I know, it would make me want to leave the grind behind forever. 

The Aran Islands are a group of three rocky islands off the West Coast that offer a glimpse into ancient history and authentic Irish culture. Ferries come and go between 8am and 7pm. These arrivals and departures, as well as the weather that affects them, are a part of daily life. The islands receive between 270,000 to 300,000 visitors annually. Tourism has largely replaced fishing and agriculture as the primary income source for the roughly 1,200 Irish-speaking residents. Inis Mór is the biggest and the busiest by far.

After another easy ferry ride, I walked around Kilronan Beach and up to the hostel. My host, a generous woman from France, greeted me at reception. She came here 10 years ago for her first volunteer exchange, never left, and has since taken over the lease. After leading me on a tour of the kitchen, lounge, laundry, and storage, she left me to get settled into the staff room. I met my first fellow volunteer, a 40-something solo woman from Argentina, who came to Ireland for three months to practice her English. There were two bunk beds and she had already taken one of the bottom bunks. I took the other, making sure to thank my ancestors for it.

Since I arrived after the cleaning was done for the day, I had free time to explore. My hunger outweighed my curiosity, so I wandered into The Bar. I sat at the counter, where I was greeted by the owner. She was a kind woman from Galway who made sure to remember my name and my drink order for the next time I stopped in. And she didn’t judge me when I ordered apples two ways at 1pm - an Irish cider and an apple tart. On an empty stomach, 16 oz. of cider gave me a nice buzz for souvenir shopping. I nearly fell asleep in the Aran Sweater Market wrapped in a $120 lambswool throw blanket.

I spent the rest of the day doing some much-needed laundry and reading a book from the hostel library, “Jung at Heart: Tools for Psychological Hygiene,” written and published by a local woman, Tess Harper-Malloy. According to their website, Tess and her husband Dara live in a self-built, clean energy efficient home on Inis Mór. They spent many years mentoring young people from all over the world in self-sufficiency. Dara is a Celtic monk, druid and priest, who came to the island over 40 years ago to be a hermit. Unwilling to be a member of any institutional church or to create a monastic institution of his own, he encourages people to follow their own spiritual path and to draw on the Celtic tradition for their inspiration. These are my kind of people.

The first week, I did my best to become acquainted with the island, asking Aran Bike Hire for a free rental multiple days in a row. By the time our next volunteer arrived, a 24-year-old solo girl from France, I was able to lead us on a ride across the island, to Kilmurvey Beach, the the Wormhole, and the edge of Dun Aonghasa. We packed ham and cheese sandwiches to eat near my favorite souvenir shop, Lia Árann. I would’ve rather went into the cafe next door, Teach Nan Phaidi, for another bowl of vegetable soup with soda bread. But if I had waited in the long line of tourists to order it, we might have missed spotting six grey seals on our way back.

Over Easter weekend, we hosted a non-religious gathering of guests, staff, and a few locals. One of the locals was a dive instructor and she encouraged us to sign up for an experience. The thought of swimming out to the seals instead of waiting for them to come to me was very tempting, but I couldn’t face that fear just yet. Especially not in cold and murky Atlantic waters. Instead, I dove safely into the strawberry pavlova dessert.

With my free time, instead of bedrotting and doomscrolling my days away, I downloaded Duolingo to learn a little Irish and started watercoloring shells I found on the beach. Like a child bringing artwork home from school, I presented a painting to my fellow volunteer-turned friend from Argentina on her last day. She promised that even when I’m famous and my artwork is worth millions, she still wouldn’t sell it. I’d happily let her do so, then paint her a much better one.

If homesickness ever set in, I could relax in the lounge decorated with lighthouses like the one in my hometown on Lake Michigan in Wisconsin. I could cuddle with the three strays that our host, a kindred cat lady, leaves food out for. I could go next door to Ti Joe Mac and watch the locals, with their guitars and fiddles, break out into song after a few pints. Or I could walk around the corner to buy yet another €12 box from Man of Aran Fudge, which tasted like my childhood trips to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Inis Mór already feels like home, but with a lot less expectation. It’s doing wonders for my mental health.

In researching ways to move to the island myself. I learned about Ireland’s “Our Living Islands” program, which awards grants for renovation costs to those who purchase a house built prior to 1993 on a selection of islands off the west coast. Inis Mór is one of them. I imagine renovating a large cottage, with tips from Tess and Dara, to host wellness retreats. While I don’t have nearly enough money to buy a home at the moment, this program will run from 2023 to 2033, so I have a little less than six years to make it happen. I would stay here if I could, but I'll be off to Scotland soon for another volunteer housekeeping exchange. 

To be continued…

This post contains commissionable links to a Giant’s Causeway Tour and a Cliffs of Moher Tour. I have taken both tours and would highly recommend them, as you read above.