Ireland! (this is hecka long)
I'll probably have to edit this continuously, since I'm tired and all. Yay!
So we got there on Thursday night at about 10:00. Let me tell you, Ryanair? It was a fucking cattle car. No joke. We made the grievous error of sitting in the last row of the plane, which meant we couldn't put anything under the seat in front of us for "security regulations." "Security regulations" my ass, those stewardesses were bitches. And it was THE most clown-car of flights I've ever been on, which is awesome, yet frightening.
So we got there, all took out our Euros, and I dorkily pointed out exactly where my friend had met my brother and I when we visited (hi Al!) - I'm cool like that. Actually, even before that was the friendliest customs guy ever - may have been hitting on me, given how often that shit happened during the rest of the trip. He asked me why I came there for a vacation, and "because I like it here?" must have been a good enough answer!
We got into town, got to our hostel (Isaacs Hostel; not too bad, but a bit out of the centre and north of the Liffey) and kind of had an awkward meeting with the Eastern European mother and daughter who were in the same room. The mother's main communication method seemed to be angsty sighs and conversing in whatever language, but clearly about us. "Americano" just translates well. That was the point when my friend Liz said "oh, it's okay. We're not American, we're Canadian." The mother suspiciously stopped mentioning either Americans or Canadians after THAT lovely statement, heh.
There was also an Asian girl who was dead asleep, but who had made the grievous error of taking one of my compatriot's sheets. Man. That did not go over so well with said compatriot. Anyway.
[EDIT!!! So I forgot one of the stupidest/most awesome things!!! We were wandering around the first night after we got falafel (mmm) and came across some club with paparazzi outside. We just stood there, then saw some cars and some lights flashing something about the Irish Music Awards. We asked the guy next to us what the hell was happening, and he said that it was the post-party for the awards. We decided to stick around for a while and see what the fuss was all about, and then this car pulled up and the paparazzi got all antsy. These guys get out and flashes abound, and we're all kind of thinking "that guy looks like Bono." Well, it wasn't, because we're dumb. It WAS Bono's friend, though, and some other guy from an '80s band (The Velvet Prunes? We don't really remember what the guy said). So yes. We saw NotBono, and possibly some other famous Irish people that we didn't at all know were famous.]
We woke up the next morning and did the "full Irish breakfast" thing while I gave the old Bewley's site a little salute (in my head). The breakfast wasn't bad at all, but was a bit more meat than I'd eat at breakfast. Ever. After that, we walked the 2937592384752 miles to Kilmainhaim Gaol, which was excellent to see. Honestly, I'm damn glad I didn't go there with my brother, because it's definitely one of those "we're all Irish history nerds, yay!" things that just needs to be done in similar company.
After that, it was off to the Guinness brewery (again). I had a moment of panic when I saw that they had a new room where they were doling out tiny tastes of beer, but I asked and was reassured that these were just so that you could taste it as part of the process. The Sky bar was still upstairs and still giving out the precious free pints, yaaaaaaaaaay.
Sadly, I am lame and could still only drink half of a pint. There are probably photos of me wincing somewhere, but I sure as hell am not going to tell you where to find them.
(Also, whoever wanted a "Guinness for Strength" poster? I got you one. Just remind me who you are (and I *think* I know who, but whatever.))
Hmm... after that, we made it to Burdock's fish and chips, which forever be in my heart for its chips with salt and vinegar deliciousness. I don't do the fish. We then walked around a bit more and made it to a really far-too-costly for us restaurant where we had traditional Irish food. Brown bread and butter has a hold on me, damn. Also the cider. Yay Bulmers!
Next day we decided to skip the whole Belfast plan and drive straight to Galway. Of course, we managed to get lost getting out of the city, but pretty much straightened ourselves out quickly. The roads are definitely something else, but it's a pretty drive. It was NOT so pretty when we were thinking we were going to die due to some not-so-amazing driving, but the only damage was when we hit a parked car's side mirror, at which point I apparently said "keepgoingkeepgoingkeepgoingkeepgoing" - no harm, no foul - I think that mantra works (and both mirrors were still attached and unharmed; we checked as we were speeding away).
Galway was ... cloudy. I can see the attraction; the problem was that it was just so dank and cloudy that it wasn't really conducive to walking around outside pleasantly. It's definitely a cute town - reminded my friend Wynnie of a ski village-type place the way it was laid out. We definitely had fun trying to find a parking spot, and by "fun" I mean "nearly five simultaneous heart attacks." The main square was heavily under construction, which sucked, but we managed to park a 5-minute walk away and found our hostel. We walked around the town, I bought shit I don't need, and we had tea with the BEST SCONES EVER. I wanted to go to the counter and buy the others that were sitting there, all waiting to be eaten. I'm such a fan.
We then found a pretty nice bar where we hung out for a while, and then old lightweight me had to go get some food, at which point we found yet another fish and chip shop. Excellent. Seeing as how the bars were kinda random and maaaaaaaaaybe-sketchy, we decided to go back to The Quays, where we had been. Well. It got crowded! With aggressive guys! The only real cute one was the bartender, however, so we just settled and overheard an Irish woman telling her friends that yes, she'd been to the US; yes, New York women were like all American women; and all American women want to do is get an Irish husband. Right. The Irish men WERE grabby, however, which was not ALL bad (well, a lot of it wasn't great, but not horrid).
After that, I had no more Euros left, so we went back to the hostel, at which point we found out it was directly above the bar next door. The bar next door, incidentally, was heavy into the pulsing techno dance music. That was a fun night of sleep.
Next morning we woke up bright and early to take full advantage of the day and drive to the Cliffs of Moher and Aran Island ferry! Yeah, except we get to the street and see a GODDAMN BOOT ON OUR MOTHERFUCKING CAR. It turns out that one of our party had miscalculated how long the ticket would cover, and we were just under an hour short. Oops. Thanks to the extreeeeeeeeemely nice guy at the tourist information place, we were able to call the number, then the Garda, then the number again, and then get the boot off and pay the 80 euro fine. Woo!
So Jeanyne, Liz and I were dropped off by Jeanne and Wynnie, who went to the Cliffs of Moher (and TOTALLY saw the castle that Conan O'Brien visited in possibly the funniest thing I've ever seen on his show. I was disappointed I'd missed seeing it personally, no joke). The three of us caught the ferry to Inis Mór, where we got off and remembered that it was Sunday in a Catholic country. Excellent. We ended up catching a tour that was surprisingly entertaining, and we managed to see most of the island. We ended up at a pub near the ferry, watching Six Nations Rugby (Scotland v. France) and a football match involving Manchester United, I believe. Of course local oldish man came in and started speaking Irish to us, then English, then apparently hitting on me. I had my back to him and was kind of three sheets to the wind on two glasses of cider (I do NOT know why this happens), so I had no clue, but I guess it was walking that fine line between hilarious and "we have to leave here NOW NOW NOW," so that's always going to be a fond memory.
Got back to the mainland, then managed to drive back relatively unharmed to Dublin. We heard some most interesting Irish rap on the way, and we all decided that having news on the hour is not our favorite thing, at all. Also, decent music is rare way out in the west. Anyway, we made it back to Dublin by about 10, parked, got to Isaac's, slept for four hours, woke up at 3:30, got to the (ticket and boot-free!) car, drove to the airport, waited forEVER, hopped on a much nicer and tamer Ryanair flight, and managed to end up safely in London not twelve hours ago.
Oh, fuck. As I write this, they're showing an "insider's guide to Dublin" on tv. Too late, assholes.
But yes - the trip involved much cider, fish and chips, being ogled, having guys think I was Irish and trying to get me agree to revolt in the store that was playing a Celine Dion song, walking a LOT, saying "Bratislaaaaaaaaaava" in a heavy accent far too often, almost dying due to a loaf of bread being in the road to Galway (what? I know.), and my falling in love with all of the furry cows on the Aran Islands. Good times; can't wait for Glasgow and Edinburgh this coming weekend! :)
So we got there on Thursday night at about 10:00. Let me tell you, Ryanair? It was a fucking cattle car. No joke. We made the grievous error of sitting in the last row of the plane, which meant we couldn't put anything under the seat in front of us for "security regulations." "Security regulations" my ass, those stewardesses were bitches. And it was THE most clown-car of flights I've ever been on, which is awesome, yet frightening.
So we got there, all took out our Euros, and I dorkily pointed out exactly where my friend had met my brother and I when we visited (hi Al!) - I'm cool like that. Actually, even before that was the friendliest customs guy ever - may have been hitting on me, given how often that shit happened during the rest of the trip. He asked me why I came there for a vacation, and "because I like it here?" must have been a good enough answer!
We got into town, got to our hostel (Isaacs Hostel; not too bad, but a bit out of the centre and north of the Liffey) and kind of had an awkward meeting with the Eastern European mother and daughter who were in the same room. The mother's main communication method seemed to be angsty sighs and conversing in whatever language, but clearly about us. "Americano" just translates well. That was the point when my friend Liz said "oh, it's okay. We're not American, we're Canadian." The mother suspiciously stopped mentioning either Americans or Canadians after THAT lovely statement, heh.
There was also an Asian girl who was dead asleep, but who had made the grievous error of taking one of my compatriot's sheets. Man. That did not go over so well with said compatriot. Anyway.
[EDIT!!! So I forgot one of the stupidest/most awesome things!!! We were wandering around the first night after we got falafel (mmm) and came across some club with paparazzi outside. We just stood there, then saw some cars and some lights flashing something about the Irish Music Awards. We asked the guy next to us what the hell was happening, and he said that it was the post-party for the awards. We decided to stick around for a while and see what the fuss was all about, and then this car pulled up and the paparazzi got all antsy. These guys get out and flashes abound, and we're all kind of thinking "that guy looks like Bono." Well, it wasn't, because we're dumb. It WAS Bono's friend, though, and some other guy from an '80s band (The Velvet Prunes? We don't really remember what the guy said). So yes. We saw NotBono, and possibly some other famous Irish people that we didn't at all know were famous.]
We woke up the next morning and did the "full Irish breakfast" thing while I gave the old Bewley's site a little salute (in my head). The breakfast wasn't bad at all, but was a bit more meat than I'd eat at breakfast. Ever. After that, we walked the 2937592384752 miles to Kilmainhaim Gaol, which was excellent to see. Honestly, I'm damn glad I didn't go there with my brother, because it's definitely one of those "we're all Irish history nerds, yay!" things that just needs to be done in similar company.
After that, it was off to the Guinness brewery (again). I had a moment of panic when I saw that they had a new room where they were doling out tiny tastes of beer, but I asked and was reassured that these were just so that you could taste it as part of the process. The Sky bar was still upstairs and still giving out the precious free pints, yaaaaaaaaaay.
Sadly, I am lame and could still only drink half of a pint. There are probably photos of me wincing somewhere, but I sure as hell am not going to tell you where to find them.
(Also, whoever wanted a "Guinness for Strength" poster? I got you one. Just remind me who you are (and I *think* I know who, but whatever.))
Hmm... after that, we made it to Burdock's fish and chips, which forever be in my heart for its chips with salt and vinegar deliciousness. I don't do the fish. We then walked around a bit more and made it to a really far-too-costly for us restaurant where we had traditional Irish food. Brown bread and butter has a hold on me, damn. Also the cider. Yay Bulmers!
Next day we decided to skip the whole Belfast plan and drive straight to Galway. Of course, we managed to get lost getting out of the city, but pretty much straightened ourselves out quickly. The roads are definitely something else, but it's a pretty drive. It was NOT so pretty when we were thinking we were going to die due to some not-so-amazing driving, but the only damage was when we hit a parked car's side mirror, at which point I apparently said "keepgoingkeepgoingkeepgoingkeepgoing" - no harm, no foul - I think that mantra works (and both mirrors were still attached and unharmed; we checked as we were speeding away).
Galway was ... cloudy. I can see the attraction; the problem was that it was just so dank and cloudy that it wasn't really conducive to walking around outside pleasantly. It's definitely a cute town - reminded my friend Wynnie of a ski village-type place the way it was laid out. We definitely had fun trying to find a parking spot, and by "fun" I mean "nearly five simultaneous heart attacks." The main square was heavily under construction, which sucked, but we managed to park a 5-minute walk away and found our hostel. We walked around the town, I bought shit I don't need, and we had tea with the BEST SCONES EVER. I wanted to go to the counter and buy the others that were sitting there, all waiting to be eaten. I'm such a fan.
We then found a pretty nice bar where we hung out for a while, and then old lightweight me had to go get some food, at which point we found yet another fish and chip shop. Excellent. Seeing as how the bars were kinda random and maaaaaaaaaybe-sketchy, we decided to go back to The Quays, where we had been. Well. It got crowded! With aggressive guys! The only real cute one was the bartender, however, so we just settled and overheard an Irish woman telling her friends that yes, she'd been to the US; yes, New York women were like all American women; and all American women want to do is get an Irish husband. Right. The Irish men WERE grabby, however, which was not ALL bad (well, a lot of it wasn't great, but not horrid).
After that, I had no more Euros left, so we went back to the hostel, at which point we found out it was directly above the bar next door. The bar next door, incidentally, was heavy into the pulsing techno dance music. That was a fun night of sleep.
Next morning we woke up bright and early to take full advantage of the day and drive to the Cliffs of Moher and Aran Island ferry! Yeah, except we get to the street and see a GODDAMN BOOT ON OUR MOTHERFUCKING CAR. It turns out that one of our party had miscalculated how long the ticket would cover, and we were just under an hour short. Oops. Thanks to the extreeeeeeeeemely nice guy at the tourist information place, we were able to call the number, then the Garda, then the number again, and then get the boot off and pay the 80 euro fine. Woo!
So Jeanyne, Liz and I were dropped off by Jeanne and Wynnie, who went to the Cliffs of Moher (and TOTALLY saw the castle that Conan O'Brien visited in possibly the funniest thing I've ever seen on his show. I was disappointed I'd missed seeing it personally, no joke). The three of us caught the ferry to Inis Mór, where we got off and remembered that it was Sunday in a Catholic country. Excellent. We ended up catching a tour that was surprisingly entertaining, and we managed to see most of the island. We ended up at a pub near the ferry, watching Six Nations Rugby (Scotland v. France) and a football match involving Manchester United, I believe. Of course local oldish man came in and started speaking Irish to us, then English, then apparently hitting on me. I had my back to him and was kind of three sheets to the wind on two glasses of cider (I do NOT know why this happens), so I had no clue, but I guess it was walking that fine line between hilarious and "we have to leave here NOW NOW NOW," so that's always going to be a fond memory.
Got back to the mainland, then managed to drive back relatively unharmed to Dublin. We heard some most interesting Irish rap on the way, and we all decided that having news on the hour is not our favorite thing, at all. Also, decent music is rare way out in the west. Anyway, we made it back to Dublin by about 10, parked, got to Isaac's, slept for four hours, woke up at 3:30, got to the (ticket and boot-free!) car, drove to the airport, waited forEVER, hopped on a much nicer and tamer Ryanair flight, and managed to end up safely in London not twelve hours ago.
Oh, fuck. As I write this, they're showing an "insider's guide to Dublin" on tv. Too late, assholes.
But yes - the trip involved much cider, fish and chips, being ogled, having guys think I was Irish and trying to get me agree to revolt in the store that was playing a Celine Dion song, walking a LOT, saying "Bratislaaaaaaaaaava" in a heavy accent far too often, almost dying due to a loaf of bread being in the road to Galway (what? I know.), and my falling in love with all of the furry cows on the Aran Islands. Good times; can't wait for Glasgow and Edinburgh this coming weekend! :)
posted by Teri at 12:19 PM
1 Comments:
i'm actually kind of disappointed that you didn't take your friends on an "all-alison" tour, which might feature such things at "and there's the big open field where..." and a special field trip to parnell square to visit the offices of the competition authority, or perhaps to brendan's house in marino? and who can forget that always-pleasant hour and a half bus ride to way-the-fuck-out-dublin aka swords? i mean, for real, my tour would definitely have it all. but i am touched that you were kind enough to remember the spot where i was waiting for you that fateful day(there wasn't actually anything fateful about it, i'm just making that up) in november 2002.
in thanks for your shoutout, i have included a shoutout to you in my latest posting. granted, it's more of a "i hate you" shoutout due to my exceptional jealousy, but its a shoutout nonetheless.
and seriously, rock on. it sounds like you are a having a absolutely smashing time over there in those bloody good british isles.
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