Ireland 2011

Finally, the time has come for me to digitally record my Ireland adventure.  It will be difficult to put into words the details necessary for one to understand the real feel of Ireland.  I will not hold back by only telling the good, nor will I try to be too much of a critic.  Instead, I will show exactly how I perceived it; after all, it is my adventure.

Let's begin:



To the left is the very first picture I took in Ireland.  Josh, holding the baguette, is demonstrating perfectly the diet we shared for eight days.  Stephen, the smiley one, is just happy to be in Ireland.







Here is the view just outside our hostel in Dublin.  We had some difficulty finding the hostel, but luckily, a kind motorcyclist was willing to hold up traffic and point us in the right direction.  The pace in Ireland really is slow, even in the cities.  Just beneath this text is a shot from Trinity College, famous for the Book of Kells, which, of course, we didn't see (long lines and beer to drink).

Dublin had the, what I believe to be universal, feel of a city.  While the buildings were older than those in America, they were nothing to be impressed with.  One thing I noticed was that Dublin is a very short city.  The tallest building was a cathedral, and even there, not very tall.  The pubs were very crowded and didn't seem very authentic in Irish spirit, often playing typical American pop music.  A musician, playing classic American songs with Irish instruments, asked the pub if all the native Irish people could raise their glass.  One glass was raised.  I was slightly depressed, but my travel mates were not so easily disheartened and bought themselves another beer.

Thankfully, only one night was spent in Dublin and we took a train to Galway early the next morning.




Galway was a fun city: small, lots of pubs, lots of music, right next to the sea, and an all around good place to be.  Two nights were spent there, with the highlight sights being the Cathedral of Galway and a couple very old pubs.  Below are two pictures of the Cathedral, which was also a great place to celebrate Sunday Mass, followed by a nice picture of Josh drinking his favorite Irish drink, Bulmers Irish Cider.

The first day in Galway, we took a half hour hike into the nearby town of Salthill.  The main town was rather touristy but just outside was a nice peninsula where we spent the afternoon watching kite surfers and enjoying the landscape.

To the right is the hostel Josh and Stephen stayed at for the first night in Galway, and became my home as well as theirs the second night; I'll explain why a bit later.

Below is a view of Galway and Josh as we left the city.

We passed a chess area going through Salthill.  Sadly, I forgot my four foot high chess pieces as well as my official sized ones.

The night was finished with Guinness and Bulmers.  You can see the gold, silver, and bronze coins which are actually worth something in Europe.  A euro is worth about one and a half dollars, and the coins come in 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, and 50 cents as well as 1 and 2 euros.  The smallest paper euro is a 5.

After a drink or two it was time for bed.  Stephen and Josh went to their cozy little hostel where they slept with several other strangers.  I, on the other hand, found a place to stay for free online.  Sounds great, right?  There is a website I used called Couch Surfing where people can host travelers who are looking to meet new people.  It was about a half hour hike away with a full pack.  I found the place, knocked on the door, and was greeted with "Couch Surfer!!!"

A lad, by the name of Mike, about my age, showed me into the house to meet his fellow mates.  He was missing his top front teeth which only created a thicker Irish accent to decipher.  His other friend, Garret, was on crutches.  I found out later both lads were injured via drinking accidents; this should have been my first clue not to stay the night.

The house itself was destroyed.  Cigarette buds littered the carpet, beer bottles littered the carpet, other things I'd rather not mention littered the carpet, and litter littered the carpet.  I was happy to know that I would not be sleeping on the carpet.  You can see the bed where I slept to the left, and below that are the welfare apartments, called "flats" in Ireland, where it resided.

Despite the poor living conditions everyone was very friendly.  Another guy dropped by, Sam, whose head was covered in dreads, braids, and beads.  He told me his stories of traveling Spain with absolutely no money for three months.  Just as the conversation was getting good about 20 people came bustling into the home with drink in hand.  Sam, noticing my complete lack of energy, quickly showed me upstairs to that spare bed.  I am very happy he was able to see just how tired I really was.  That night consisted of people throwing the door open only to find that the bed was already occupied, shouting, "Who is that?!" then slamming the door shut, continuing on in their ways.

Needless to say, I slept in the hostel the next night.

While looking back, the Couch Surfing experience was one that I am glad to have participated in.  However, there are other things that need to be mentioned which add up to create such a fun cultural experience.  The doors for instance, are like hobbit doors with the door knob in the middle.  The roads and sidewalks are all lined with cobble stone walls.  Even production zones are built with fake cobble stone walls just to keep everything uniform.  J. R. R. Tolkien clearly visited Ireland before he wrote about the Shire.

Another aspect of the Irish culture that I can appreciate is the language.  While the original Gaelic language is rarely spoken by the locals, all the signs, bus stops, and train announcements are first in Gaelic and then in English.  It's also a great joy to drop some eaves on a local's conversation.  Everything from the universal, "I saw that on facebook," to the more Irish wit of "She's probably diseased in the lower half," can be heard while wondering the cheery streets of Ireland.

By the way, here is a random picture of Stephen taking a random picture while exposing his money belt randomly.

From Galway we went to the Aran Islands.  We took a bus where I met a Chinese school girl.  It turns out there are many Chinese, as well as Polish, people living in Ireland.  In a way it is like a newer America, as far as melting pots are concerned.  From the bus we caught a ferry over to the largest of the Aran Islands, Inishmore.  This island, just off the west coast, is almost completely treeless, but most plentiful in stone.  Some of the oldest ruins are found on this Island.  The beautiful cliffs of Inishmore are excellent examples of Ireland's greatest beauty, its country side.
Below are pictures that just barely catch a glimpse of this beauty:

Here we have Josh and Stephen after a long bike ride to the edge of the island.

The incredible labyrinth of stone walls, used to keep the livestock in, literally fall into the sea with the erosion of the cliffs.  It's a good indicator of just how old these walls really are.

The celtic fort of Dun Aengus is incredibly large.  It's amazing that despite all the years of farming and tourism that surronds it, it is still intact.  

My only complaint with this beautiful monument is the amount of people it draws.  

I much prefer the Black Fort on the other side of the island.  Here, the history is entirely yours.  Though the architecture itself is of a smaller scale, the isolation more than makes up for it.

In fact, it was so isolated that I was able to set my tent up right next to it and sleep on the cliff side for the night.  This feat would not have been possible had we been paying enough attention to catch the last ferry of the day over to the Cliffs of Moher.  Luckily, for me at at least, the ferry was missed, and I was forced to sleep surrounded some truly amazing landscape.

The view outside my tent, and the feeling of watching the sun set on the edge of the island, are things I don't think I shall ever forget.  To top things off, Stephen and Josh, who spent the night in the hostel, came to visit with a few beers.  In the video, at the end of this blog post, the campsite and atmosphere of the night can be more easily seen.



The next morning we were able to find a ferry and make it over to Doolin, the nearest town to the famous Cliffs of Moher.
These cliffs can only be described as breathtaking and populated.  Many consider them to be the 8th wonder of the world.  While their natural beauty is not overrated, the hundreds and hundreds of people lining the edge definitely take away from the experience.  If I were to see them again I would definitely go in the early morning before the crowds arrive.

While I could write for hours on the Cliffs, pictures capture their essence more precisely:

The tourist center of the Cliffs reek with hobbit.

Little bit o' beard and cream.

If you look closely, you can see the hundreds of people lining the edge of the Cliffs.  That should give an idea of just how massive these cliffs are.

O'Brien's Castle sits on the very edge.

A sad fact of these cliffs is that many choose to end their lives here; not everyone succeeds either.

From the Cliffs, we went to the small city of Tralee.  I like to call this part of the trip a beautiful nightmare.  

For starters, we had little understanding of the Irish bus system.  As it turns out, you can buy a ticket from point A to point D and get off and on at points B and C as many times as you like.  Being stupid Americans, we bought a ticket from point A to point B, and then separate ones from B to C, and from C to D.  The lovely bus driver caught on to our economically inefficient ways and reprimanded us before exchanging our tickets for the price we should have paid.  This wonderful helpfulness was not at all expected, nor was it the last of such that we witnessed that night.

Safely arriving in Tralee around 11:30 p.m., or 23:30 as Europeans like to write it, we attempted our search for a place to say.  As it turns out, Tralee is the home of the third largest international beauty pageant in the world, and we happened to arrive on the last night of the festivities; this meant every hotel, hostel, and B&B (bed and breakfast) was booked, and had been booked for the past month.

So there we were; three, tired, and barely adults in a city filled with alcohol-encouraged celebrators of beautiful women.  Not a single building looked as though it was open, and large "no vacancy" signs were our only greetings.  As God, luck, or fate would have it, we found a place within 15 minutes.  We came by a smaller building called "BiBi's Accommodations."  A light was shining through the front  window's curtains.  Desperate, I tried the door.  It was locked.  We all sighed in discouragement and proceeded to go on in our homeless ways.  About five steps down the road we were stopped by the sound of a door creaking open and the voice of an absolutely lovely woman saying, "Are you in need of any help, lads?"  I explained our situation, and she explained Tralee's situation.  She began to apologize that they were all booked up, but suddenly looked up in thought.  "Hold on," she said,  "now that I think of it, there were three gals who booked online and canceled.  I don't think I ever changed the status back on the internet.  Come in, come in.  Give me a minute while I go check."

She came back.  We had a place to stay.  However, she couldn't find the keys to the room and spent the next 45 minutes frantically running around looking for them.  Saddened that she couldn't find them, she showed us upstairs to the toilettes, and told us we could at least sleep on the floor if need be.  And there it was.  A room, open, with just enough room for three lads and their gear to rest soundly for a night.  As it turns out, there was another room she forgot about, and this time she had the keys to it.  There was even a private shower and toilette.  It couldn't have worked out any better.


We cleaned up, went out into town to join the Irish in their celebration (can be seen better in the video), came back, slept, woke up, ate breakfast, and came downstairs to find out just how much we owed.
"15 euro each," she said.  We all smiled simultaneously and paid.  At this point I requested to get my picture with her.  We said farewell and continued on with our adventure.  She will always be remembered as one of the sweetest ladies I've ever met.

We arrived in the town of Dingle Town.  Here was easily the most beautiful landscape.  The sea and land almost danced together in vivid colors.  The town itself is filled with, which are filled with music and beer.  Guaranteed to be a good time.  I decided to camp again on one of the mountain tops overlooking the town. I stumbled upon a horse path, which led to a goat path, which led to a nook in the side of the mountain; perfect for a tent.  It was about a forty-five minute hike.  Once I was satisfied with the setup, I just sat and enjoyed the wind on my face. It was rather windy, as there wasn't much blocking the air from the sea.  Also, on top of the mountains are these strange cobble stone creations which I observed.  I couldn't make out what purpose they served, but I suspect they are some kind of temples for the local fairies -- maybe leprechauns. It's hard to tell.

I also took a picture of myself, an action I'm not entirely proud of.

After a couple hours of just resting, I secured my backpack in a waterproof tarp, and zipped it away in the tent.  Deciding it was safe enough to leave it unguarded, I headed back down the mountain into town.  Wandering into a local pub, which serves as a hardware store during the day, I got myself a drink and emerged into conversation with the locals.  I told the story of Tralee and everyone congratulated me on having "the luck of the Irish."  A man by the name of Neville even bought me a drink.

From there I found Stephen and Josh and we did some pub crawling.  We even ran into a couple girls that go to our school in Austria.  Around midnight I decided it was time for bed and proceeded on my forty-five minute hike up the mountain.  Hiking at night alone in a foreign country was a bit scary, and I'm not sure I'd do it in any other country besides Ireland.  I found my goat path and stayed on it as best as I could.  The wind was intense and the smell of rain was in the air.  I said a prayer and took out my knife, just in case.  Releasing how creepy it would be to come across myself in the middle of the night on a random goat path, I put my knife away.  Of course nothing happened and I found my tent.  I opened the door, went inside, and then it happened.  Rain.  What luck.

The next morning I woke up with goats for company.  As it turns out my tent leaks a little and there was a small puddle at my feet.  Luckily I stayed quite dry throughout the night.  However, I was in no mood to camp a second night and decided it would be best to get a hostel for the last night.



Dingle Town was most pleasent to explore.  This shop, called The Craic House, made me laugh.  Craic, pronounced "crack", is the Irish word for good conversation.








Here we have The Little Cheese Shop.

The other cool part of Dingle was its church, which I found quite charming.

We also took a bike ride around the dingle peninsula, which can be seen in the video at the end.  Here are some of the pictures, though.  It was about 26 miles and I enjoyed every minute of it.  While we lucked out with weather for the majority of our trip, it was on this bike ride that we experienced typical Irish weather, rain.  However, I thought it added to the experience and I was glad it accompanied us.  It must have felt a bit bad for us though, so it gave us a lovely rainbow, which you can see in the second picture below.

Above are some ancient homes belonging to the Celts.  It was neat to go inside, but we all felt we were ripped off with the two euro charge.  Perhaps we'll appreciate it later in life.  Below is a nice night shot of Dingle Town.

The next day was spent in travel to get back to Dublin.  We had our last few beers in Ireland and I turned 21 there.  We also happened to hear some of the best live music and we finished in the same pub we started in.  We really couldn't have asked for a better Ireland trip.

Looking back and writing this blog has been a real delight.  I think a trip that isn't reflected on is like a test that hasn't been studied for.  There is a certain beauty in living the moment a second time.

In the end, I call Ireland a successful trip.  I am writing from Gaming, Austria, where there have already been many adventures.  However I will have to save those for a different time.

I hope you've enjoyed reading my blog, even if it was a bit detailed.  This is more for my own sake, but I know friends and family back home are curious of my travels.  So here they are.

Lastly, the video highlights of the trip are arranged into one compilation.  You can watch it below.

Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFLL2QFSwKM