Had a wonderful day today! Called in sick and had an amazing time skipping around Dublin. Saw so much! More on that later. I don't have a power cord because the outlet killed mine (and not b/c of the voltage conversion). And considering my mac is a few years old, the battery life isn't marvelous. Thus, blogging becomes a bit tricky. I got gifts for people today, so that's a big check off the list. Laundry and packing, oh boy!

Germany is going to be so expensive, so I'm thinking it'll just be Berlin and Frankfurt. Plenty to do in Berlin.

Tomorrow is my last day of work (WAHOO) and there'll probably be a lunch, which is awesome (free food.) Last night we had a program sponsored farewell dinner (free food).

Anyway, miss everyone!! I'm down to 25% battery which supposedly is 48 minutes, but I call bluff.

Oh, and I'm taking pictures like a lunatic tourist.

Scotland!

Okay, there is a TON to say, so bear with me if it's very long or if it takes me a bit to finish this post.

Let's start back in Dublin...

Wednesday night:
I have been failing at the social aspect, and so Kari and I decided to go out Tuesday, which was switched to Wednesday. Anyway, I had a bad headache, and didn't want to drink because I had a 5 am cab to catch. At the time, Kari had a Spanish roommate who had Spanish friends. They take their time, so we don't roll downtown until well after 10 (10:30?) When we're on the bus, we meet these local girls who tell us to go to certain bars. They get off the bus, and a man leans over to us and says, 'Don't go there.' We had guessed the bars were gay bars, and we were right. Can you say catty? So, then another group of girls offered for us to follow them to a club. Well, the boys (Spaniards) have short attention spans, so that didn't work.

We ended up at Temple Bar, the bar, also IN the neighborhood called "Temple Bar". Yes, confusing, but it is one of the most famous pubs in Dublin. It was actually not that bad, especially for being a tourist trap. Speaking of which, just before we left, we ran into some females from Philly who said they'd been having a time of it trying to find good pubs/bars because they felt the locals kept pulling their leg (as had happened to us earlier that night.) So, we gave them a few hints as to where they should go, because we did know a little bit. In thanks, the girl bought Kari a Paulener, (I though it unkind to receive a pint just for doing something so simple.)

The Spaniards were: Carlos (17) from Saville, Inigo (23) from Saville, and Sancho (late 20's) from no idea, Barbara (26). Sancho's English was the worst. Carlos and Inigoand Barbara spoke good English, but Inigo was best at picking up the humour/subtleties. At one point, Sancho was pretty gone and while posing for a picture he gave me a big kiss on the cheek. he's married, and said dancing was okay-- I'm not so sure his wife would have agreed, but they all thought dancing was totally harmless. Then again, maybe they don't dance like Americans do...

Anyway, we run into some schoolmates, and leave the bar. We wander a bit, and by this point I'm getting annoyed because it's late, I'm tired and far too sober to be dealing with a large group who is far from sober. So, I get a cab back to Shanowen. Pack, sleep for two hours, and then get up at 5 for the cab...

Thursday
I took the cab with Camille, so we split the price. We both went through the airport together, since it was a first for both of us (going out of Dublin airport). When we left security, we asked a guy for directions. he assured us we were doing everything fine, and so we went to our respective gates. My gate, which was way out in th boonies, was sizzling hot. And there seemed to be a delay, so there was lots of waiting.

I get up the guy who takes your ticket, and he looks at mine far too long. He says, 'I can't let you on.' For a minute I think he's joking, but then when he doesn't admit to the prank, my heart drops. Apparently, with Ryanair, you need to get a stamp on your boarding pass saying your passport is okay.

Now, your boarding pass has a small advisory disclaimer that says, and I quote: All non EU passengers MUST go to airport bag drop/visa check desk before going through security to have their travel document/visa checked for validity or travel will be refused.

Okay, BUT, it does not say where. We passed the bag drop, noting there. They usher you into security! So, when we got there, we're showing our passports the whole way, to more than one person at more than one stop. There is no clear sign for visa checks. There is no part of the airport or queue for these checks.

Anyway, I zoom back through security, and ask frantically where the visa checks are. No one knows. I talked to three people at security-- who all tried to push me back through security despite my protests that I'd already tried that--before I stopped asking security. So, then I ask anyone I can find. I started asking where Ryanair was, rather than the visa checks, since the latter seemed to confuse them. No one knew where Ryanair was. One guy told me area 4 and 5 (it was 7 and 8). At 4 and 5 I asked the guy there, and he was quite rude: 'I don't work for them so why should I know?' Because you work right next to them! Jeez. So, long story short, it takes me FOREVER to find Ryanair, and then I had to ask them where the visa check was. Bottom line: ran out of time. Game over.

I was pissed. There's no way to sugar coat it. I yelled at the visa check girl, which I felt really bad about three minutes later. Ryanair SUCKS, but it's not her fault. Anyway, I went to go get another ticket. Only other time was a 6 something evening flight. So, I went back to Shanowen and crawled into bed at 8 am.

Kari and I took the same flight that evening. As we were walking from the place the airport bus drops off at (Waverly Bridge), we saw a swarm of people. Men and women in neon vests that said "Army tattoo". Huh? What was everyone doing just standing? It was very confusing and disorienting, making reading street signs a difficulty.

And then there were drums... and as we inched down George St or something, we saw men in kilts. Oh, yeah. Bagpipes and all. We didn't stay, because we were tired, it was dark, and personally, my mood was a bit crushed. So, we got to the hostel, went to our respective rooms, and passed out. Have to say, the hostels all weekend were nice.

Friday:

We got up and boarded the bus (#1). Kari and I weren't originally scheduled on the same bus, but we got it worked out. Unfortunately, it also meant we were the last ones on, so we didn't get to sit together. I got a seat in the very back, next to two Canadian cousins, and a couple who were from New Zealand but had been living in London the last year. 

We drove up north, our first stop was in Dunkeld. We stopped in Pitlochry. It was all about looking around, seeing each village, and stocking up on any food or whatnot because once we reached Skye there was no market or anything.  We saw some amazing views. Our guide, Colin, was awesome. he told great stories and myths in his amazing Scottish accent. (Born and raised in Edinburgh.)

We drove through mountains, and finally went through Inverness.  On our way, we stopped off at Lochness. Oh, yes. Our tour guide is mentioning swimming in Lochness the entire time, and honestly I thought he was kidding.  Hard to tell with the accident. But then, he asks out loud who will go swimming in Lochness, and of course Kari screams like a crazy American. I asked her if she was serious, and she said she was. So, I got to thinking... of course I would do it, if our guide was serious. I had no idea it was even possible-- people were allowed to go swim in Lochness? Apparently. (Little trivia: Lochness stays almost the exact same temperature throughout the year.) So, I was thinking... I hadn't brought a swimsuit (Scotland is cold, if you didn't know.) I hadn't even brought a suit to Ireland.  I could go in clothes, but I only had one pair of pants. I had only one pair of pj's. Obviously, I couldn't go pantless the whole weekend. And the hostels... well, that's sleeping with seven other people of all sexes. Sleeping in the nude might not be appropriate, even if it was Europe. This was a problem.  So, I ask Kari how she plans to do it, because I know her clothing situation is the same as mine. She she was going to go in her pj's and just sleep in underwear. Hmm... well, I could go into more detail, but I'll refrain.

So, the two Americans are the two crazy ones to jump on the bandwagon. By the end, the two Canadians and the New Zealand male end up joining in, but we were the pioneers (so much historical irony.)  So, Kari and I tiptoe out to the edge of Lochness. We're huddling in on our selves, feeling quite exposed. Mind you, there's a whole bus of people watching us.

We gave our cameras to people, and immediately the girl who has mine starts taping us (I wanted a video). So, Kari leaps in... now, let me explain the Lochness. There is no sand. It's rocks. Not even really stones, but rocks. Slabs or earth. Very little moss. Surprisingly, especially for a lake that houses a prehistoric creature (Oh, I believe in Nessy), the water is clean, clear, and the rocks are sharp and slick, but not slimy enough that the edges are covered in moss. So, it hurts. We're wearing socks, but really we should have worn shoes. It wasn't the cold or all the eyes that was the hardest part, but the rocks. So, I tiptoed carefully.  I would have stayed in there a while, but Kari jumped out kind of quickly. She splashed around and then was done. I was still wading out when she was done. I was only wet up to my waist, which was completely unacceptable. So I dunked my head and tiptoed back. Given more time, and if I had known others were going to do it, I would have actually swam as far as I could, because the first 30 feet are too shallow and rocky to really swim/go under fully.  The dynamics of the Lochness surprised me, so I wasn't prepared as I should be. I thought, especially when the idea of swimming was suggested, that it would be, well, swimmable. 

Anyway, Kari and I get on the bus and now need to worry about changing out of our wet, wet clothes and into dry ones. Problem is, the bus had windows... sparing you all some details here. Let me just say, this is where it got very X-rated and European. We get off the bus so the male New Zealander can change. We realize, by the time the Canadians are on the bus changing, that we could have spent more time in the Lochness, and that, oh yeah, the bus has curtains! Awkward.

We finally get to Skye, and it's immediately straight for dinner. I have a headache, and feel quite dirty and tired. We eat some Haggis (Kari's new favourite.) Two Quebecians join us, Josene and Emily, who become our friends for the rest of the weekend.

So, I ended up sleeping without pants all weekend... luckily, everyone in my room went to bed late and got up late, opposite of me.

Saturday:

So, we're out by 9, and this time get seats together, about the middle of the bus.  We start off, and the weather is horrific. Colin suggests if the weather doesn't get better, that we can Skye and head off for other things so we still make us of the time. We all agree, since Skye seems to be one of those places best enjoyed with visibility. 

Our first stop is a lake, where Colin tells us a story, that leads to him telling us we need to put our face in the water for seven second or three times, and we'll have eternal beauty. Colin's whole premise for all these dares (Lochness and the lake so far) is that we get a shirt. Obviously, we all get a shirt at the end. Kari and I do every single dare. So, we hold our faces in this freezing river for seven seconds. Very, very refreshing. 

Luckily, the weather turned around and was quite nice. We saw some beautiful hills and rivers running down the mountainsides. As much as we didn't want to admit it, by the end of the trip Kari and I agreed that Scotland is more green and has more hills with waterfalls than Ireland. 

We stop off a Portree, an adorable fishing town. Again, only place for supplies so we get some food here. Got some good pastries. At this point, we've bonded with Josene and Emily. 

We go to some cliffs, and I have to say, while I love the Cliffs of Moher, there were crazy cliffs in Scotland.  The wind was intense. Same wind as with the Cliffs, but this time we climbed down the side of them. As we left the top of the cliffs, the wind was not bad. It was steep, and that was the only scare. But once we got down to the bottom, there was a gorgeous waterfall that turned to a river, and some castle ruins. Pictures of this are amazing.

But then we had to climb back up. That was not good. It would have been fine if we hadn't been in a bit of a rush, and I knew I wouldn't make it if I didn't just do it fast, like a bandaid. The whole entire time in Europe, and even now, I've been fighting off being sick. Guess my body just isn't used to all the travel and change of climate so quickly and constantly. Anyway, as I'm trudging up this hill, going as fast as I can, not thinking about it, just grabbing and pulling myself up, not looking down, just pushing up. The wind going back up was worse, and by the time I hit the top, where the wind is the worst, I was in pain. My sinuses are very pissed off, and I felt like a coke addict because I could feel mucus dripping down the back of my throat. I was quite the mess, and the wind was painful. My lungs hurt incredibly bad, because I was inhaling more than I could exhale. Like oxygen poisoning or something. Colin kept asking if I was okay.  I was pretty nauseas for the next couple of hours.

Anyway, we see some more amazing hills and all.  We went to another wind-infested cliffs with a castle. I walked about a bit, but didn't hang out long, let alone go down to the bottom where the good view of the castle was. Kari did. People were leaning forward, at a sharp angle. In pictures it looked like they were flying or falling, but that's how strong the wind was, it held people up even with all of their weight.  

Like this, but more: 

So, anyway. We stopped off at a whisky tasting. Colin told us the real way to taste whisky was to hold it in your mouth for ten seconds, swallow, then take the rest. Kari did it. I couldn't. We had something that was a whisky version of baileys, and that was actually okay (Kari and I stole a second one of those.)

Then, it was on to the Faerie Glenn. That was my favourite part of the entire time in Scotland. Words cannot describe. There was a heart shaped area where inside the rock-heart were little trinckets people leave. It's a token you give to the faeries, in exchange for them granting you a wish of love (i.e. someone you like will like you back, or your current someone will like you more, etc.) I didn't leave anything, because I am a singleton at the moment, so it doesn't apply. There was also a spiral or rocks, and you walk into the spiral thinking of bad things, make a wish and leave something once you hit the centre, and then think of good things when you come out. Kari and I did this. Then there is this sharp ridge that's high up, you climb up and walk this ridge, and then there are a bunch of rocks you have to squeeze through or under, and then you are this flat top, that looks out over the entire glenn. Gorgeous.

By this time it was late and we were exhausted, so back to Kyleakin (where our hostel is in Skye), and we go to the pub with Josene and Emily. We had some good food. Kari, impatiently, jumps up and needs to go for a walk after we're talking. It was good to share cultural differences. Josene needed to email her boyfriend every night, so Emily and I walk her to the other half of the hostel (two parts within five minutes walking of each other), and then Emily and I walked around. English is her second language, but she is by far one of my favourite people I met while in Europe (the first probably being Dagmar in Germany...)

Sunday morning, at 9, Kari and I find ourselves at the front of the bus. Score, worked our way up to the front. We see Eileann Donan Castle, which is lovely, but it was rainy. We drive through several glens, and stop off at Glen Coe (famous for a massacre and its beauty).  We went to the Wallace Museum, and climbed to the top. Very beautiful, but we didn't go inside because you had to pay. William Wallace is a Highland hero.

We get into Edinburgh, and Kari is dropped off at the airport. I think I have two hours before I need to be at the airport, so I start wandering around Edinburgh, trying to make up for my lost Thursday.

I'm downtown, mildly lost trying to make my way somewhere, and then as I'm looking at a map, and BOOM! I mean, boom. It hit me like a sneeze. 10:45 flight does not mean the 10:45 I'm thinking it means. I look at my clock, and it's almost six thirty. Kari's flight was 8 something. I flee over to the train station to catch a bus to the airport. That takes too long, so I get a taxi. I swear the taxi driver thought I was crazy, but he gets me there by 7. I run up to the Ryanair lady, and rather stupidly, ask, 'Can you tell me what time my plane is at?' 10:45 AM. anti meridiem, as in morning. 

So, I get another ticket. I fly back to Dublin. I get a taxi, and my taxi driver is talking about how Americans are lucky because we have free health care and our drugs are super cheap. I don't say a word. I crawl into my bed and pass out. 

I need to not fly Ryanair ever again. Even after all that, I bought a ticket from Frankfurt to Berlin with Ryanair, thinking, "c'mon, what else can go wrong?" Oh, boy. 10 kilos is really not a lot of weight at all...  Point is, Ryanair makes a killing off of me, and not because I don't know how to fly, but because America is not an internationally friendly culture.

America needs to switch to the metric system and 24 hour clock, pronto. And not just in the medical, scientific, and military world. I mean, those three are taken care of, what about the civilians?! Ugh.

Scotland was amazing. I miss Ireland, too.

Cong, Connemara, and Galway City

For those of you who don't know, I had two options last weekend: go away to Galway on my own, or stay in Dublin and enjoy the social life because everyone was staying and plannng onliving it up. I chose the former. Best. Weekend. Yet.

Friday:

Bright and early we set off on a Paddywagon bus tour headed for Belfast. Our first stop was the Battle of the Boyne site. The site was closed, so we milled about trying to look through the gates, and then climbed on top of some fake canons (you'll see when I post pictures.) Then we went off to Drogheda, which as far as I can tell only has one claim to fame: it houses the head of Oliver Plunkett.

Who is Oliver Plunkett? So glad you asked. Do you know about the IRA? Bloody Sunday? Well, long before Bloody Sunday there was feuding in the 19th century. Oliver Plunkett's head was chopped off by Oliver Cromwell (irony in the same name). Somehow his head caught on fire, which seemed to preserve it more than destroy. So, in the Republic of Ireland in a gorgeous church in Drogheda, his head is in a glass case for all to see (no pictures, it was too creepy.) Oliver Cromwell was for the Protestants (the British) and Plunkett was for the Catholics (Republic of Ireland), hence the decapitation.

Then we got to Belfast. We piled into cabs and went on a tour. We saw the Protestant side of town and the Catholic side, and got to hear about them from the drivers. We saw murals (oh, they love Obama), and we saw the fencing/gates around the city that locks up and separates the sides at night so hoodlums can't cross lines and cause trouble. We got to write on a wall. I wrote: Don't hate, Appreciate. I know it's lame, but people had written all the good ones already and it was all I could think of at the time.

Then we went into the mall which is freakin' gigantic (I wonder if it's bigger than that one in the mideast...) and climbed a bunch of stairs to get to the very top where there's a glass dome (very Charlie and the Chocolate factory if you ask me), and you can see the entirety of Belfast-- no joke. Crazy cool. Don't have pictures, but there are probably some online.

Then back in the Paddywagon and back to Dublin. Then I got on a train to Galway. Got into Galway around 11 pm and crashed at my hostel (dirty, one bathroom, smelt terrible).

Saturday:

Got up bright and early (7 am) and caught the 8 am bus to Ballina which would take me right to the gates of Ashford Castle. Or so I thought. Nope. But, I had already bought the ticket and there were no other options, so it took me to Headford, a good 20-30 minute drive from Cong. Damn.

I was mad, I'll be honest. I find Bus Eirrean and Iarnrod Eirrean to be very unorganized. Their timetable online said it went to Cong. So, I'm standing in Headford, i.e. middle of nowhere, at 8:30 in the morning. I tried three cab companies, but none were running yet. Aside from a hotel and convenience store, the town was quieter than those towns in old Westerns.

I called Ashford Equestrian, hopping they'd have some advice or I'd have to cancel. Again losing out on horseback riding. The nice man says he'll come collect me. And this is why I love Irish people.

So, he comes and gets me and drives me back to the equestrian centre. I get ready and saddled up. Cindy, a cute tiny French girl with a crazy thick accent led me out, and the two of us rode. I was on Spruce, she was on Guinness. It was gorgeous... indescribable. No camera, so no pictures. The head guy (who'd picked me up, Tim) told Cindy not to trot, but she asked me if I wanted to-- heck yes. So we did a few times, in secret. Wahoo! We went through the forest and pass the old shed and cottages of the Ashford estate, and then up along Lake Corrib... perfect.

So, then I went off to find the hostel. The lady was SO sincere. ('You are very welcome here!') And then I raced back to Ashford to go get my falconry on.

It was a maze to find the falconry place and I was a few minutes late. Deborah, the owner/leader, was very nice. She explained everything about falconry and its history to me, and hawks and falcons (hawks seem more common). Then we got ready and went out into the woods with a baby (5 months!) hawk, Gievre ('winter' in Irish, not sure about spelling.) Absolutely amazing. He's still learning, so he made many crash landings (hilarious), and he was very aprehensive, but it worked. Basically, I got to witness a big feat because it was a big deal he behaved so well.

Then I wandered around Ashford estate, got something to eat at Cullen's, a bistro on the property, and walked around some more... I went down a lot of trails and basically covered every inch of the property and surrounding area.

Then at 6 I went on a cruise around Lake Corrib. There was an elderly man, Martin, who played the accordion and sang. He even sang a song, Spancil Hill, because it mentions California and I told him that's where I'm from. The lake was beautiful, even though it was freezing. I'll speak a bit more about that when I can show pictures.

After that, I went back to the hostel--where Martin was singing with a bunch of people!-- and passed out by 9 pm.

Sunday:

After the long Saturday, I slept in to a late 8 am. I was unbelievably sore. (I also hit my back on the bunk bed the night before because they are super tiny bunks.) I got ready, checked out, and headed for the village of Cong. As I was walking, a car honked at me, and who was it other than Martin? Oh, lovely man. So, I explored Cong village... which took ten minutes. No where was open for food. I was quite peckish, because I didn't have dinner the night before. That morning as I was leaving the hostel I walked the wrong way on accident, and I was eating an apple. I passed some horses and gave them the apple because it was a bit mealy.

So, nothing was open in Cong village. I wandered and wandered. Got an apple lattice (pastry) at Spar (convenience store chain that is everywhere here) and finally found a place with a hot and cold buffet that was open. The man (owner/server) was nice and gave me tips for Scotland (tomorrow!) I read the history of Cong village and all its heritage sites, and then milled around for a few more hours. I fed some ducks for a good thirty minutes, too.

About one I got on the Galway City Tour bus. We went around Cong and by Lake Corrib and Lake Mask (not sure about spelling). We went into Connemara and through the hills. We stopped off at the Kylemore Abbey (a converted castle.) It was beautiful. Our driver was awesome and made us sing songs. He was hilarious. The roads are windy and curvy and narrow, and he kept swerving. Yes, it did make me a bit nervous. He told us jokes and was just a very fun guide.

At Kylemore I switched busses because I needed to be back at Galway to catch my train and Declan (the original fun guide) was running later than Mike's, who was also fun (but not as crazy as Declan, who is the owner of the company.) Anyway, I get back to Galway with thirty minutes to spare, board the train, and pass out. I was famished so I had some chips.

Got home and passed out. Wheew!

I'm fighting off a cold (again). Off to Scotland bright and early in the morning. I think we're going out to bars tonight. Oh boy. Everyone says I'm young, but sometimes I don't feel it...

Pictures to come! (And videos!)

Video: The Cliffs of Moher

This does not even come close to doing justice... I love my camera, but it's no professional. Also, I'm no pro either, and I'll admit I was trying not to pee my pants or get blown off the cliffs. You can hear the wind, that "clicking" sound is the wind. I cannot describe the wind, and I feel like this video doesn't even capture it. Emily got a picture of people almost falling over from the wind, I should post it to just to illustrate the wind. You know the movie, The Birds? I have a new one: The Wind. Also, don't think I'm exaggerating how beautiful and terrifying the cliffs are, just because of the video. Okay, on with it already:

Pictures: The Cliffs of Moher, The Burren, Co. Clare, Ireland

I have more pictures, and Emily has an incredible Nikon so her pictures are beyond words, but here's something for now:
This is a signpost going to Galway. Reminds me of an Alice in Wonderland scene.

In Lisdoonvarna (where we stayed at our hostel), which is known for its singing, dancing, and yes, the Matchmaking Festival in September. Mark your calendar.
The tower at The Cliffs of Moher.
Kim getting attacked by the wind after taking a picture in her Snuggie.
The Cliffs!
Standing on the left side (i.e. standing on the cliffs in the above picture) looking at the right side with the tower.
This is what we walked on in the private property area. See the edge? Yes, that's the edge.

Security!
Breathtaking...

Get it?
First glimpse as we pull into The Cliffs parking lot!
Doolin, a beautiful little town. Absolutely gorgeous, known for its pubs and caves.
A little bit of castle. No biggie. (I actually have several pics of these from over the weekend; it is so common to see a wall or tower or something from a castle, just slowly withering away. I can't get over it.)

The Burren, The Cliffs of Moher, and watching The Game in pubs...

The original plan: Saturday morning we were going to take a 20 euro cruise around the Aran islands and Cliffs of Moher, which basically means a four hour cruise around the west coast of Ireland. That plan was smashed to pieces by the weather. So, then we were going to take a tour by bus of The Burren (a region in western Ireland) and see a dolmen, some caves, some castles and crosses, and of course The Cliffs of Moher. That got smashed becaus the company did not have their act together. So, long story short, we finally made our way to The Cliffs.

Which, were beyond incredible. I was scared so, so much. I was clinging to the cliffs, half crawling, half parying I didn't fly off the cliffs (not an unfounded worry-- happen frequently and one guy died just 25 weeks ago.) Anyway, Kim, Riley and Emily (the friends with whom I spent the whole trip) managed to make their way far, far away, totally out of sight. So, the whole time I'm inching along, seeing these spunky German kids pass me by, and I felt like a very silly American. Anyway, I see the trio coming back, and I ask them to take a picture of me before I flew off, and followed their unconcerned lead off the side. So, then we went to the other side (right side of the cliffs, where you're allowed to go, and there is ecessive walls so you cannot possibly fly off, and there are security everywhere just in case.) There was a tower, named after this guy O'Brien who wanted a beautiful view of what he knew would one day become a historical landmark. Anyway, it cost two euro to go up the tower, so we decided against it, which was very wise in my opinion, because I truly think if we had we definitely would have blown off into the sea. I cannot express the wind, but pictures will help when I post them.

So, this was all over the course of 1.5 hours, at which point the wind was so bad we were very lucky to have come when we did. Of all the weekends we've been in Ireland and all the people to have visited the Cliffs, I think we had the best weather during our excursion.

Friday night we went out and enjoyed some authentic music in the pubs and bonded. Saturday night we were all beat, so we had dinner and then went to bed. Sunday was tricky, because it would cost too much to do all the "tour" things without a tour bus (example: a cab one way to the Burren perfumery was 35, compared to an all day tour of 20 euro including several locations.) We did get to see Doolin, a cute little city where the caves and all that are. We stayed in Lisdoonvarna, which is famous for its pubs and of course, of course, it's annual matchmaking festival in September. A guy named Christy Moore has a song dedicated to Lisdoonvarna. Commonly, there's a song about every city-- no matter how small-- in Ireland, because every city has a pub, and men seem to be at their most musical when they have a pint in them.

So, Sunday we had planned to go to Galway (where we needed to catch our train back to Dublin) and go see the horse races, since it was the last weekend, only 20 euro, and a chane of a lifetime. Unfortunately, as we were waiting for the bus to come take us to the races, it began to rain and about the same time, we began to realize the bus wasn't coming. So, we hung out in pubs and watched "football" (which is more of a combination of soccer, football, and volleyball without any padding.) I got asked my age (equivalent of being carded, because they trust you here). It was wonderful. I ordered my vodka cranberry, and the bartender looked at me and asked, 'and what is your age?' I was so baffled. He gave me a lime slice. :) Anyway, so we go to get our train at 4:15. After a lot of stress of getting there in time, we're on the train and told by the cleaning crew it won't leave util 6:15. There's no way to censor this: we were pissed. Yes, it's a bank holiday today, BUT we checked several times on phone and online and were assured the trains were running as usual. So, back to the pubs to drink away the anger. Mind you, there's no food happening here, just Murphys, Guinnesses, vodka cranberrys, Kim and tequila, and Emily and Jameson. Long story short, Kim got drunk, I got a headache from not eating, and so we got on the train moody, annoyed, and starving. The train was freezing (the only place in Ireland with AC is the train, and the only place that doesn't need AC is the train. Go figure.) There were annoying kids screaming, and their mom was hammered and smoked in the bathroom so the train smelt.

So, my weekend consisted of a lot of disappointment with transportation issues. Ireland has a very mellow attitude, which would be just fine if we were spending lots of money on our trips. Granted, the Cliffs were amazing, but there was SO much else we could have done that we missed out on. Again, the bright side (apart from the Cliffs) is that we got to see a lot of the area, got to hang with the locals, and spent some quality time bonding, eating great food, and enjoying pubs.

I'm going to Galway next weekend, and I am determined to do all the things on my list. Here it is:

Falconry (at Ashford Castle)
Horseback riding (at Ashford Castle)
Galway tour of Connemara and The Burren (so I'll get the dolmen, the castles, the caves, and the views.)

I have two days to make those three things happen, and the first two have to be on Saturdays because of the busses and the tour has to be early enough that I can get a train back to Dublin Sunday night... its going to be a lot of work. Wish me luck.

And yes, pictures to come.

Pictures: Dingle Peninsula, Co. Kerry, Ireland

Some entertainment at Dingle city centre.
A horse right next to our hostel. He posed happily for us.
And so we had tea before we left Dingle.
Dingle harbour/marina.
Fungie, the resident dolphin, is a celebrity in Dingle.
After hitch hiking failed we waited for a taxi at the sign for Ventry, and this sign gives the Gaelic name.

A beach at Dingle... this is the coast of Ireland.
And this is how we felt about them after walking for hours and not seeing them.
This is where we were supposed to go horse back riding along the beach and through the fields of Dingle Peninsula.

Pictures: South Wales (Newport, Gwent, Cardiff...)

The house I stayed in while in Newport.
"Croeso" is "Welcome" in Welsh, and the second word is Welsh for "Cardiff". This was outside the Cardiff train station.
A Welsh bumble bee!
Greenhouses at St. Fagan's.
At the gardens at St. Fagan's.
Castle at St. Fagan's.
Dovecote.
A gazebo like structure, now a sitting area at St. Fagan's.
The first is the fish house exhibiting all the equipment used over time to fish, and the second is the boat house, which has boats on display.
At the wool mill.
Outside of the wool mill.
Thatched barn. Looked like it was made of wicker.

Looking from the wooded area toward the castle and gardens at St. Fagan's. This reminds me a lot of the Van Trapp's house in Sound of Music. Doesn't it look like their yard?
From the castle/garden level.
A tiny part of the gardens at St. Fagan's.

Millenium Stadium, Cardiff/S. Wales pride and glory at the moment. (Though, not to be mistake, Cardiff is known for more since it is the capital and has the castle.)
From the "basement" part of Cardiff Castle, up to what I assume would be the ground level, but we weren't allowed to go up there.
The "basement" tunnel. You can walk this around a great deal of the perimeter. I chickened out after ten minutes... very creepy after a while.
A good picture of the setup of the watchtower at Cardiff Castle. You can really get a feel for the whole moat situation.

Cardiff Castle from inside the watchtower.
Looking down at the walkway from inside the watchtower.
From inside the watchtower.
The watchtower from inside the tower.
Walk up to watchtower (from exiting the tower.)
The watchtower!
Moat!
Inside Cardiff Castle the walls were amazing. I took many pictures, so it was hard to choose. There is incredible detail in every part of the castle, from the mouldings to the fireplace to doorknobs.
Stained glass.
Yes, that's a castle at the end of the road in Cardiff city centre. No big deal.
USA nails... I had to take a picture.
A castle off in the distance at Newport (not Cardiff Castle).
At the cemetery next to Dasha's house in Newport. Supposedly the oldest cemetery in the UK.
At cemetery.
Room I stayed in at Dasha's house.

It is so hard to choose which pictures to post. There are so, so many. This is a mere hint of the whole thing.