I'm here to report on my journey to the Emerald Isle (which is Ireland--you should maybe feel a little ashamed of yourself if you didn't know that).

Anyways, where is better to start then at the beginning yes? Well, how 'bout the end, just briefly before I officially begin. I just want to apologize for it having taken me 4 days after I got back to get time to post this, but as you will learn there have been some hinderances to my mobility factor and henceforth the amount of times I make use of my mobile ability to indulge myself with unnecessary trips to the IT Labs. But more on that later.

Okay, so last Thursday after all my classes were finished, the girls and I (the girls on this particular occassion being Becca and Erin) had time to grab some supper (and for me to blog the last entry before we left) and then took off for the airport. We managed to get there plenty early and stood in line for about an hour to get our boarding passes, and then stood in line for another hour to check in, and then sat in the boarding lounge for maybe another 30 mins, before we stood in line to board the plane. I have absolutely no idea why traveling by air here is so much slower than in the States. It's rather ridiculous. But, I digress. Flying in the evenings is decidedly still much better than early early mornings.

So we board our mini plane to Dublin, Becca naps a little, Erin reads a little, and I take turns freaking them each out a little via reading the safety directions on the front of my seat and pondering extremely rare possibilities in which the measures provided would serve no real assistance of any use--or by scaring the crap out of them by being silent for lengthy periods of time, and then turning abruptly to yell in their ear "We're going to IRELAND!!". This really only worked on Erin. The most I got from Becca was an annoyed look which I think is safe to assume as meaning one of the following: "I know Steph", or "Really? I'm so glad you decided to inform me for the bazillionth time", or "If you keep it up I'm going to ____" and site the numerous ways I previously listed to how we could die on the way to Ireland)

Suffice to say, we did not (obviously) and we landed in Dublin in fine time. Then it was off to the busses, to try and pretend that we knew which number would take us to our hostel we had booked for the evening. Luckily enough, some girls in front of us were discussing directions to the same place with a driver, and he said that his bus would take them, so we followed.

Once we got to the last stop on that route, we hopped off and walked the remainder of the way, found our hostel, and checked in. I'm not gonna lie. It was a little sketchy. We were in a room with 8 beds, and somehow people were sleeping in 2 of the 3 beds that were supossed to be reserved for us. So the man upstairs, just switched us to some other unnoccupied beds. No biggie. Unfortch for us, (and by us, I mean Becca) not all these beds had been re-fitted with clean sheets and pillowcases since the previous occupant had left. After getting tired of waiting for new ones, she finally decided to just sleep on top of them anyways, so we all prepared for bed, and retired for the evening.

Around 6:00am we woke up, got all our stuff ready, and went upstairs for the free breakfast--which was skimpy, but amazing simply for the fact that they had peanut butter (and jelly) for the toast. It was still bade fake imitation English (or Irish?) peanut butter but still, it was peanut butter all the same. The lack of which over the past 3 months has made us all reconsider exactly how deep our love for it runs, in an awkward and unsettling manner.

Then as we gathered with the rest of the herd (apparently all the paddywagon tour groups meet at Paddy's Palace--the name of our not so royal hostel). We finally found the mass we were supposed to be traveling with, on 2 busses (well, one bus, one van/bus) for the 3-Day South Tour. Because we were in a group of 3, we were allowed on the big bus, which was actually very nice. I can imagine a little easier now what attracts elderly people to travel on these things in large numbers to odd locations around the country. It's actually quite quaint.

Once we all had boarded, there seemed to be an instant bond between the group, as we all wondered simultaneously if our driver was drunk this fine morning, as he drove us crazily around the city of Dublin, whilst making odd remarks to himself (and others), strange noises, and sang to us. Luckily, he was not. In fact, the 3 of us in my mini-group, mutally came to the conclusion that he is simply an older, male, Irish, version of me. Only, kinda like a Steph on ADD. Which I guess is just Steph, if you've ever ridden with me in a car, or on long drives. If you haven't let me just state for my own defense, that talking to yourself or singing loudly whatever random song is stuck on replay in your mind, is not proof of insanity, it's simply a prevenatative measure to keep oneself from that horrid state known as 'boredom'.

To continue: I loved this driver. Is it necessary to state that? I don't think so, but I wanted to all the same. Why? Cause that's how much I loved him. If he were not married with two kids, I may have just stayed in Ireland. Wouldn't that be sad for you. (Well, not really, you could come visit).

Anyways, the first stop of the day (after leaving the city) was at this giant cross in the park (which is one of the largest 'parks' in the world--its really more just open land donated to the public, when the owner died).

Oh yeah, at this point I should give you the link to my photobucket, in case you should feel more comfortable browsing the pictures as I talk about the sites.

Ireland Pictures: Click Here!

Okay, so you see that big cross on the mound? That's what I'm talking about. There wasn't a whole lot to see, minus some deer grazing nearby, so we were off again to our next stop. Which was a rest stop, so I'll skip that, and go the next one.

We ended up driving through some bog lands where they kinda farm and cut peat--which a lot of Irish still use in their homes to burn in their fireplaces. Then we arrived at Clonmacnoise, which is the remnants of what was once an old Celtic village, and there still stands the walls of the churches and monks towers (though the roofs of those, and all the villagers homes were made of straw/hay/etc.) and of course some High Crosses which still are very prominent and important to Irish culture.

Next we made our way through Ballinasloe to Galway (if your still keeping up with pictures and story at the same time, you may go to page 2 now). We stopped in the bay, to go around to some shops and get a bite to eat for lunch before going to the hostel. Which by the way was amazing. Seriously, this place was nicer than the dorms at Webster. And the dorms here for that matter. The had a large dinning area with loads of seats/room, and a kitchen, where you could make your meals should you decide to cook instead of go out, AND they had computers for the lonely traveller's internet access. It cost a Euro for 15mins and 3 for an hour, but still. It was available.

We got together with another group of 3 girls who are studying in Scotland. Two of them are from Wisconsin and one is from Minnesota, which slightly annoyed Becca when it came to their accents. But whatever, she's from Jersey, so I just made an extra effort to make fun of her for that on the trip. The room was huge by the way. And if your looking at pics now, you'll also notice that it had a fun quality to it--structurally and otherwise. You can tell the nice warm colors and sheer cleanliness of the place brightened us up right away.

We decided to walk around Galway, and get to know the city a bit. On the way to the hostel we noticed a market place, which we later found out is known as 'Shop Street', which actually sprawls along numerous streets. With all the bright colors and crowds of people we thought it would be fairly easy to find, and we were off.

I don't actually have an picures from the Shop Street adventure, but it was extremely colorful, and as we walked through the city, we couldn't help but be slightly confused as to why it felt more like a Spanish city, or even slightly Italian, than...well...Irish. Reason we found out later makes much sense...during one of the many attempts to free themselves from the English, the Irish had sequestered help from Spain, who sent their ships into Galway, where there actually was success (however short-lived). There is actually still a monument in thanks to the Spanish there, the Spanish Arch, commemorating the good deed, and perhaps also offering a bit of explanation to the feel of the city. When you see my postcards you'll notice the atmosphere comparison.

Anyways, Galway is a young vibrant city. Young, because apparently its University City Ireland. Most of their colleges are there, hence all the young minds of tommorrow live there and make up the majority of the population. Therefor the city is also one of the trendiest in the country as well.

After we were done shopping, we decided to just walk around the city a little, and we ended up walking along the river to the Galway Cathedral, which I believe is St. Nicholas Church. It's probably the most modern cathedral I've seen so far, but I think it's also my favorite. Perhaps because it's so different (in its mondernism).The outside is designed alot like other cathedrals, but it's made from local limestone and marble, so the look of it, on the interior is vastly different. I love it.

After that it was getting a little dark, so we found a place to grab a sandwich for dinner on the way back to the hostel, and then spent the rest of the evening there, showering early (in a hostel this nice we just had to, not knowing when the chance for better would come again), and reading a bit before calling it an early night.

Our friends the Australians from the bus, however did not, haha. Oh yeah, a couple things to mention here quick.

1) This was Good Friday, so for the first night in Ireland on the Paddywagon tour, loads of people (namely the Aussies) wanted to go out and have an "Irish" night, however being Easter weekend, in an extremely religious country, no pubs were open.

2) I love the Australians. On the bus, when a good song would come on (ie. Bon Jovi - Living on A Prayer) the Aussies were the ones singing their hearts out along with the loud Americans traveling with us. And by Americans, I mean me. But seriously, all the great American songs, the Aussies knew (they were even demanding some Johnny Cash, which they later got) and then when stupid really really really bad British pop/techno songs would come on, we were the ones sitting back, quiet and confused.

Anyways, so the Aussies wanted to drink. With no pub access available to aid them, the driver decided that he and the other driver would call up a buddy he has in Galway, and get some alchohol for them and they could have some Happy Days (a term used way too much on this trip..and now by me, here at Regents) back at the hostel. They ended up having a 'Crack' (Irish slang term #2 - it means have a good time) and maybe a bit too much fun, as noted by the silence and lethargy on the bus the next day.

So, the next morning, Saturday, sad to depart our dear hostel, and nice room, we loaded on the bus, with the hungover group of Aussies (who were dissapointed with us, apparently we failed our reputations as Americans by not being out there partying with them) and set off again, Bingo Bango! (Irish Slang Term #3 - I don't really know what this means, the driver used it whenever he felt, and in whatever context. I definitely remember seperate incidents were it was a noun, an adverb, and an adjective. Although now it is also a term of endearment and a nickname, as Ering and I chose to add it to Becca's name. For the remainder of the weekend she was now, Bingo Bango Becca.

On our first stop of the day, tragedy struck. We got out of the bus at the top of a hillside, to take our departing pictures of Galway Bay, and me being me, decided stupidly, that my pictures would be better off if taken from the other side of the road, which happened to be slightly steeply inclined, and so when I commenced taking advantage of the photo op, I turned to take a picture of Becca and Erin, and noted that they were heading back towards the bus.

As you might notice in the pictures, this area tended to be a bit rocky...I saw a clumb of rocks embedded in the ground, in the path I was about to go down, to get back across the road, and then thinking sensibly, thought, don't go that way, you'll just get hurt. I scouted out a smoother portion of the terrain to my right, and decided to walk around that way, only as soon as I started in the direction and looked up to once again located my traveling buddies, before I knew it my ankle somehow folded beneath me (I heard it crack) and I rather rolled my way down the little hill to the roadside.

Oh no. What an idiot. I hate myself. I just ruined my whole trip. Some of the first things that went through my head. Before the adrenaline which instantly shot to my ankle could wear off letting me feel the first stings of pain, I thought, "Hey, maybe its not as bad as I think." So I decided to try and stand up first before I let my doubts get the best of me, and to my surprise I was ablet to do so, without falling back down immediately. At least it's not broken. Erin and Becca had seen me sitting on the ground, so they came over and with their help I was able to hobble onto the bus. Within 5 mins of getting on, I could feel my foot completely swollen against the sides of my shoe, and started to swell over the top, so I decided I wasn't going to look at it untill we got to our next stop which was an hour away. I tightened my shoe, hoping to try and compress the swelling and propped my leg up for the rest of the ride.

We made a short stop, and Erin took my camera for me while I stayed on the bus, and against my own advice I took off my shoe to look at the damage. It was more swollen than I had expected but it had already started discoloring itslef, which I took to be a good sign.I didn't think I'd need crutches at the next stop, which was an another hour away, so that was another good thing.

However, the next stop was the Cilffs of Moher. Not something I could easily give up, but I got out when we arrived, and was able to put pressure on it decently, maybe thanks to the IB Profen on the bus earlier, and so off we went. Thankfully there was a guide rail up the path to the cliffs, so I made it as far as that ran, though I felt bad that Erin and Becca couldn't climb all the way to the top, or to the other side, since they would have felt guiltly leaving me. But I felt better later when I noticed that all the pictures on the postcards in the gift shop were taken pretty much from the location that we were at, so I thought, maybe we didn't miss anything short of getting blown off the mountain, by not going all the way up.

We stopped in LaHinch, a little surftown touching the Atlantic Ocean, and then drove down through Tralee and ended up getting on a ferry to cross the River Shannon at its widest point. By the time we arrived at the next city, where we'd be staying for the night, I was fairly assured that my trip would not be completely spoiled, and that all I needed was some ice, elevation, and an ace bandage wrap.

Once we arrived in Killarney, we were met with horse and cart carriages to take us around the national park (again just lots of land open to the public, however this land containing castles, and the like). The whole ride was awesome, we ended up paying 10 Euro a piece, but it was obvious that there was no way I was going to be walking through the park, and a ride by horseback was 15 Euro (though I'd have done that as well).

We got to the hostel in the evening and all the pharmacy's around had closed, so no ace bandage wrap. We just took it easy in the room for a while, and then joined the group around the corner at 7:30pm for dinner at a local joint.

The food was good, as was the company. Of course, you should be assuming right now that we sat with the Aussies. Which we did. Strangely enough a few of them had just moved to London, so we had plenty of stories to swap, and ended up finding out a few new locations that are supposedly a 'must' for us to check out before we leave for home. Even they were sad for us, that our trip is so nearly finished.

While the rest of the group decided to go out to a cocktail bar, we went back to the hostel after a day of exhaustion. The whole night I slept with my leg resting on top of my backpack (on the bed) and in the morning the swelling was down by about half which really suprised me especially since we had found no ice. We checked the pharmacy around the corner in the morning, but it wasn't going to open untill 9:00, when we would be leaving half an hour earlier, so no ace bandage wrap for today either.

Sunday morning we were off to the Blarney Castle, and on the way we passed through Cork city, which is where the Titanic set sail from in 1912 on April 10th, we were there on the 16th just 2 days after the anniversary of its sinking. Sadly, we didn't get to stop, or even drive by the harbor, but I've gotten over it by now. But believe me I was freaking out on the bus for those 15 mins that we drove through the city. We also passed numerous sites where parts of the film Braveheart were filmed (oddly enough, only about 20 mins of footage from the film is actually in Scotland).

So, blah, blah, blah, we get to Blarney Castle, and it takes me about the whole hour we have to climb the stairs all the way up to the top, and then we get there and the Blarney Stone to my surprise, is actually part of the castle. It's just built right into it, and right over one of the parts of the top, were there is a giant gap (through which the soldiers would drop boiling pots of water or animal fat on their enemies attempting to storm the castle) so you have to lie down, and this guy helps scoot you on your back to where you can grab these safety poles and then kiss the stone upside down. Yeah, there was no way I was attempting that, especially with a bum leg.

Next we travelled up to Tipperary, and stopped to tour the Cahir Castle (the gate of which was used for the sound effect of the gate used in Braveheart) and afterwards walked around and grabbed some fruit and sandwiches for a quick lunch.

Then it was time to head back to Dublin. It was a long drive, so the driver let us watch Shrek (he had the dvd with him) to make it go by a little shorter. We got into town close to 5:00pm, so we checked into our hostel and decided to go find a pharmacy with an ace bandage for me, get some final touristy gifts, and supper before going back to the hostel for the evening.

We didn't get to walk around the city as much as I would've liked (for obvious reasons) but one of the thing that I noticed I am really going to miss about cities over here (not just Ireland, but England, and all of Europe essentially) is how easy it is to get around. Nearly all of them are walkable (minus Paris, belive me, even though I didn't get to go, I heard the stories, it sprawls despite the illusion that you can walk the whole city--even the Aussies learned this the hard way).

I mean, of course I can go home and walk around the entire city of Loup City, but back in St. Louis, or other cities I might visit like New York, or L.A. it is impossible to get around without a car, or some form of public transport.

I also can't imagine myself not travelling anymore after this. The world just seems so much smaller now. It's done with the dreaming for me. Well, not necessarily done with the 'dreaming' factor, but more like, attach more 'doing' onto the end of it.

To sum up the trip:

I had a crack! I can't wait to Bingo Bango my way back, and maybe see Northern Ireland next time. Happy Days...

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