I didn’t even realize the smell would evoke such a substantial, hair raising, life altering, religious experience. But it did. From this day forward I knew diesel = Europe. Dammit.

So there I was. Off the plane. Standing in the middle of the Dublin airport, 22 years old, 3 months after 9/11, a senior in college, an AMERICAN, and painfully, realistically ALONE in a foreign country. My parents told me I was crazy. “So what,” I said. “You raised me.” My then boyfriend (and future husband) sent me off with a kiss, a wing, and a prayer.

I had 10 days, a copy of Dubliners, and a reservation at a hip hotel next to Trinity College. I WAS GOING TO BE FINE. They speak English, this is the place of my ancestors, I’m well traveled, well versed, and dammit, I’m a Southerner, I can handle anything…