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I flew to Bozeman on the night of the 16th. My layovers were all very short, and I almost didn't have enough time to call my parents to tell them when I would get into Bozeman. Finding myself alone in the Bozeman airport after 26 hours of travel would have been a rough end to a long day, but my parents and grandma were at the airport and were a very welcome sight. My checked bag, however, could not keep up with me. I found out later that it hadn't even left Newark, my first stop after Dublin, until the following morning. I picked it up on the 18th, which will hopefully be the last time I have to go into any airports for awhile.

I've spent my time at home so far relaxing, seeing friends, and skiing. Staying warm is also high on the agenda. It was -14F when I landed in Bozeman and the ground blizzards are very sobering. I'm not sure if the Irish rain is better or worse than the cold. It's a matter of going from one miserable climate to another.

I have been asked a lot if it's weird being home. It is very good to be home, but I don't think it's weird at all. The weirdness instead comes from thinking about the differences between where I've been and where I am. It would be silly not to compare the two places. I always have to think about such assessments for a long time before they're straightened out enough to be comprehensible to anyone but me, but I'll take a swing at what I understand.

It's hard to put a finger on what it is that best describes the Irish. The place certainly isn't all shamrocks and leprachauns, especially in the North. The do enjoy their drink, but there are a few teetotalers in the North. It can't be called all Catholic or all Protestant in any part of the Ireland. Maybe it's the fact that nobody can agree on anything. The Irish do have a stereotype for fighting after all.

In this big melting pot of America there is plenty of disagreement. That's why America is special: we can think and do as we please. The difference, I believe, is that once someone becomes part of anything in Ireland, be it a religion, the Gaelic Athletic Association, a trade, or either side of any conflict, they stay there. This has proven to be a problem on more than one occasion, but compared to Americans' relative fickleness, I find their devotion and grasp of solidarity quite admirable.

The Irish have, *surprise*, different priorities than we do. Different doesn't have to be good or bad, that's just the way it is. To some Americans they could look lazy, but in their eyes we may look overworked. Going to the bars is something only rowdy college students and strange middle age men do right? To them, pubs are the center of their social circles and people of all ages go to them. Having a drink or two is an important part of life. What's wrong with prioritizing having a good time?

Would I like to go back? Sure. Maybe not just yet, but someday. There's plenty there that I didn't get to see, and there are a couple people I wouldn't mind seeing again. I'm a little surprised my mom wasn't more disappointed that I didn't bring home a redhead, but I spose I could try again later. We'll see I suppose.

And with that, I am proud to say I am satisfied, for now. Like everything else, I didn't care what happened, as long as I've got a story to tell.