Memories of a Mzungu

I am spending my Friday night watching the 1962 John Wayne movie Hatari!

Don't worry if you have no idea what I'm talking about. Five years ago, I had never heard of the movie and I went through a period in high school of watching a classic movie a week. I had watched more John Wayne films than I could name.

But then I went on safari in Tanzania and visited Tarangire NP. Everywhere around the entrance guard hut were signs about the movie being filmed there. Hatari means danger or caution. Baby Bro and I found it hilarious to yell "HATARI... THE MOVIE!" at each other for the rest of the trip.



We usually made this hand gesture as we yelled it...
although that was just coincidental.



Obviously, we had to watch the film when we returned home. Now it's my 'I miss Tanzania' film.

This round of nostalgia started when E and I ended up in Munro's Books in the language section. A Swahili book caught my attention and soon I was pontificating about how even a small knowledge of the language goes a long to increasing the willingness of the locals to help you and decreasing the opening quote on items in shops. I bored entertained E and the lady browsing down the aisle with stories which illustrated my point. (You're welcome for the travel tips, by the way, lady-who-kept-staring-at-me.)



The local mode of carrying goods.
The girl on the left is carrying an axe on her head.

Three days later, I found The White Masai on clearance for $5. Once I started reading, I couldn't stop. The writing isn't great and some of the decisions made by the author frustrated me to no end but the story just drew me. While the book is set in Kenya, the two countries are geographically similar and the bureaucracy is exactly the same. (A better term would be bribeaucracy.) As I read about Corinne's frustration with getting immigration papers sorted, I recalled how my low cut v-neck shirt got me a visa renewal when only a day earlier my scoop neck shirt was told it had to leave the country to renew my visa. (That's the power of the boobs, ladies!)


The beach at Kendwa, Northern Zanzibar



Memories I hadn't thought of in years came flooding back. The simple memories I don't pull out for dinner parties because there's no set story to entertain or inform those around me. Memories like the contentment of sitting on the shaded stoop of Susie's shop on a sunny day, drinking a coke baridi and chatting with the passersby I know. Or how looking at Mt. Meru as I left the baby home made the day complete.



The eastern wall of the Great Rift Valley. You can almost reach out and touch it.

I started dreaming in Swahili which is amazing because a) I haven't done that since five months after I came home and b) the only Swahili I remember when I'm awake is what I had to yell say to the children 18 times an hour - Stop it! Come here! No! Sit down! No hitting! Lunch/Dinner time! Go potty?, pretty standard toddler sentences - or basic greetings. In my dreams, however, I recalled a lot more. Although I'm more than willing to concede that most of the 'Swahili' I was dreaming in was probably my mind making up appropriate sounds. But there were a few actual words I was able to recall upon waking up.


The streets of Stone Town, empty during Ramadan.

Invigorated by these six relearned words, my Swahili hip hop* and Bongaflava downloads found their way back into my music rotation. Because obviously, if I'm dreaming in Swahili, I'm f*cking fluent! Baby Bro interviewed me for his paper on the education system in Tanzania while another friend invited me over for Ethiopian takeout and a movie set in Kenya (based on a true story... and you should totally watch it). The Amazing Race - the only reality show I would ever want to be on - headed to Tanzania and even went through a town I remember fondly, Mto wa Mbu (which is not what you'd expect someone to say about a town named 'river of mosquitos'. And for the record: mmm-toe wa mmm-boo). All these little reminders of Africa kept popping up.


Hard at work teaching me Swahili patty cake rhymes.



So here I sit with John Wayne humanely catching monkeys in the background while I stare at travel brochures for East Africa advertising trips I can't afford. Oh, to stand up in the jeep as it bumps its way down to the Ngorongoro Crater floor. To jump out of the dhow and wade ashore with my bag on my head as old fishermen fix their nets in the shade of the old Portuguese fort at Kilwa Kisiwani. To watch the sun set on cloudless Kilimanjaro as I eat dinner with Mama Musa, Hadija and the rest of the nannies. To barter with a stall keeper and then watch him charge the other tourists more because they don't greet him in Swahili.

To sit on the shaded stoop of Susie's shop on a sunny day, drinking a coke baridi and chatting with the passersby I know.



View from the ridge of Ngorongoro Crater after our game drive.



*The Hip Hop group I linked to, X Plastaz, is known because they rap in Swahili and Maa (the language of the Masai). The song I linked to doesn't have a video but it's the first X Plastaz song I ever heard and I love the use of the Masai throat singing in the background.

Then Things Got Really Nerdy

So I went to Seattle and this happened. (Not my photo album.) The Emerald City ComiCon was my first ever Nerdapalooza Comic Book Convention. It took all of about an hour milling about waiting for Wil Wheaton's 90-minute Awesome Hour for me to decided to return next year. It took all of an hour and five minutes to decide that I would make a costume for next year.

Yeah, you read that right! Costume. Nothing elaborate just something a bit more fitting of the event.

The whole weekend was fantastic. While I could have made a better use of my time overall (chalk it up to being a convention n00b), I crossed off everything on my 'must do' list. I attended the above mentioned Awesome Hour, the Walking Dead panel, met The Oatmeal and got his autograph (and a personalized drawing of me in which 5'3" me became a giraffe... um, alright then) before this happened:

I met Wil Wheaton! I met Wil Wheaton! I met Wil Wheaton!

He was my first celebrity crush when I was 10 so it was kind of a big deal for me. While waiting in line, I practiced a few short soundbites I could rattle off when I got up there. You made being a geek cool for me as a teen. I hate that you've already read The Bloggess's book, you lucky bastard. I love that you love hockey, but why the Kings? WHY? Can you tell Aaron Douglas that I have a Doug and the Slugs CD for him. (Okay, maybe not that last one. That was a twitter moment between me and Aaron that's best not shared with the world... outside of twitter... and Edward James Olmos who was with Aaron at the time.) I got up to the table, selected the picture, said hello and my name, and then stared at my shoes.

Because I'm cool like that.

The only really bum part of the weekend was remembering how awesome Seattle is and not really getting to see it. We made it down to Pike Place Market for a wander and then dinner on Saturday night, but I didn't really see Seattle. I've decided I need to take a long weekend sometime soon and head back.

You'd think that returning to Victoria was the end of my geeky good times. Scratch that, GGT will never end. You'd think that returning to Victoria was the end of my Wil Wheaton good times, but it wasn't! Last Thursday, Wil tweeted/facebooked/social media'ed a couple of Walking Dead references about "where's Carl? He's not in the house." Shortly after the Carl comments, he turned his attention to the LA Kings game with a comical suggestion of who should have dressed for the line up that night. I responded.

That made my night. In fact, it made my whole damn day. Even better? It happened on my birthday. Wil Wheaton laughed at my joke on my birthday. Happy 32nd year to me!

Big thanks to the folks at ECCC for putting on an awesome weekend. Big thanks to Wil for being just as funny and cool as 10 year old me always thought he was.

And a big 'up yours' to the restaurant in our hotel for completely ignoring us for 15 minutes despite less that 50% capacity. Our food was pretty damn fantastic at the other restaurant anyway so I guess it sort of worked out.

A Couple of Late Night Thoughts

I had intentions to actually write a proper post earlier to evening but it got so late I reached a feck-it-I'll-do-it-tomorrow stage. I made the mistake of doing one last random web search before heading to bed when I came across two things worth sharing.

First, if you're a zombie fan (and who isn't, these days?) and you're in England (or have random money lying around which you've just been itching to waste on a last minute flight) then you should know about a zombie killing adventure in Reading. You and your friends/fellow survivors, get a bit of hands on training with the weapons and then you have 2.5 hours in a closed shopping mall with a horde of ravenous recently deceased yet ambulatory individuals.

As much as I think I want to do this, I also know that I a) startle very easily so I'd probably just hide in a broom closet and b) giggle constantly when my adrenaline is going. In short, I'd get myself and everyone around me 'killed' telling knock-knock jokes to the infected janitor. I'd rather hole up in a nearby pub and watch the events unfold on a couple of CC cameras.

Second, a cousin recently passed along a link to In the Name of the Fada, a six-part documentary about an Irish-American comedian, Des Bishop, who decides to learn Irish. I've been watching the series on YouTube and it's been a good laugh. I'd encourage anyone with even a passing interest in Ireland to check it out. But that's not why I'm telling you about it. I'm telling you about it because Des decided to translate and perform "Jump Around" as Gailge. Enjoy.

It Pretty Much Went Like That

And just like that, almost two weeks went by...

I wasn't so overly busy I couldn't post, I was just lacking the motivation to write anything. I think I kind of burned myself out on the Christmas posting and just needed a no-guilt break from posting for a little bit. It was well-worth it. Still, life continued on while all was quiet on here so let's glance back.

1. My goal of listing everything each week is still going well... kind of. I got a little overzealous after my last post and wrote a list which was three pages long. Granted, it was a lot of small (but important) tasks written on pages only 20 lines long, but it was still long. Monday and Tuesday, I attacked that thing like McCarthy attacked suspected communists.

Image from Hyperbole and a Half. Specifically this post.

Full disclosure: I love Ali Brosh with all my heart.

Wednesday I looked at the list and did a few things but just couldn't find the motivation to keep it up for more than an hour (plus there was snow to play in!). Thursday, I woke up feeling achy and unable to concentrate for longer than 5 mins at a time. Friday was full flu-epidemic in my world. Dammit.

Monday and Tuesday had taken the list down to one page so I'm clinging to the idea that had I not been incubating a petri dish in my nasal cavities/head/throat/achy back muscles, I totally could have gotten the list completed. And I totally would have cleaned all the things!

2. It snowed in Victoria. It was beautiful. I don't have pictures because a) I had to return the camera to its rightful owner and b) just like you don't bring a knife to a gun fight, you don't bring electronics to a snowball fight.

But it was really pretty. The temps stayed low enough that it stuck around like proper Alberta snow instead of turning into the slushy, icy, deathtrap snow that it usually is in Victoria. Then one night it started raining and when the city woke up the next morning, the snow was gone. That's the way I wish it would happen every year.

3. Season Four of Merlin has started. Yes, I watch Merlin. Judge me all you want, I like it.

It's cheesy fun times with adorable accents and awesome sets. And seeing as Doctor Who isn't on right now, I need something to watch while I enjoy my Sunday morning coffee. Also, James Callis (aka Gaius Baltar from BSG) has a guest appearance on it this week so my geeky heart is just jumping with excitement. I will defend my love of this cheesy, cheesy show. Now, if you really want to judge me...

4. The Challenge: Battle of the Exes has started on MTV. Strangely enough, I don't actually care for 'The Real World' from which this was born. The Challenge is different. I always make an effort to watch it. Judge me. Please. Goodness knows, I'm judging myself for admitting this. The first episode aired this past Wednesday and I was way more giddy about it than any 30+ year old has any right to be.

5. I'm back to work in the office. I've been put in charge of a new project which is both awesome and intimidating. I'm the only person in my building working on it, while all my contacts either work in the other building or work for a different ministry/business partner. It's strange to go from a position where all my thoughts on a program had to go through my supervisor for approval before being signed off at the ministry to a position where all my thoughts go through me and, within my little sphere of influence, the ministry doesn't have to sign off on it.

Check back in six months for my update about how I ran the program into the ground and brought the entire government to its knees with an excel spreadsheet.

Guess where I borrowed and modified this from.

6. Remember when I said I was working on a vlog? Almost done. Just thought you should know that. You know what else is almost done? My final Ireland post with reviews of places we stay/ate/visited. It turned into a book so I'm going back and editing it down to a more bare-bones, less trying-to-be-funny, review post. Strictly reviews/suggestions for other travellers.

7. More judging: I'm going to Underworld: Awakening tonight. Is it going to be crap? Probably. Will I love every crappy moment of it? Definitely. I have an unhealthy love of that series... even the second really crappy one. For all my 'I read science blogs and non-fiction books', I have crap taste in films and have no right to judge anyone's film preferences... unless it's Twilight.

But not the second one. It barely had a story.

8. I got my DVDs of Firefly back from the person I lent them to. Between lending them to three different friends, I haven't had them in over six months. Obviously, I need to rewatch them. I'm toying with the idea of a 12-week Firefly Friday post series. Just giving you all fair warning that it may get really nerdarific up in here!

I've missed my little corner of the Internets. It feels good to be back.

The Final Countdown

While Al spent the final Friday taking a guided tour of Bru na Boinne and the Boyne Valley, I spent it catching up with family. I know I've said this before but I have a lot of family in Ireland. I could have spent the entire three weeks just seeing family and I probably still would have missed someone. Still, I'll take as many family meet-ups as I can get especially now that some of my cousins have kids and they say adorable things like "hi-ya!" when I walk through the door. Seriously, nothing cuter than a 19 month old with a Dub accent saying 'hi-ya'!

Saturday was run-around-buy-souvenirs-take-pictures day. Despite some very nasty rain clouds hanging about, we lucked out and managed to stay dry for our final day. It was a welcome change to the weather we had been having. We started the day by wandering O'Connell St on the north side of the Liffey. The street is named after Daniel O'Connell so it's only best that he stands prominently at the south end.

I think Ireland personified is telling you who to complain to if you have a problem.

It's that man, up there, above her. Complain to him!

O'Connell St is probably best known for being the location of the General Post Office (GPO).

The pillars are still pockmarked from the 1916 Rising. History nerd here finds that kinda cool!

The GPO acted as the headquarters during the Easter Rising of 1916. In the early hours of Monday, April 24th, members of the Irish Republican Brotherhood, the Civilian Army, and the Irish Volunteers seized various buildings around Dublin* (most of which they felt were signs of British oppression), after which Padraig Pearse read out the Proclamation of the Irish Republic from the GPO where two rebels flags had replaced the Union Jack.

After six days of fighting, the inside of the GPO was almost completely destroyed and the men stationed there, including five of the signatories on the proclamation, surrendered unconditionally to British troops. It would be another 24 hours before the rising was completely put down. The leaders were taken to Kilmainham Gaol, found guilty of treason and executed.

One of the things I love most about the Irish is their wit. If you put up a monument to anything, they'll have a nickname for it before the paint is dry. The prick with the stick, the hags with the bags, and the fluzzie in the jacuzzi are all nicknames Dubs have giving to various statues around town. My personal favourite is the the tart with cart, better known as Molly Malone.

Just one nickname won't do. Molly's also known as the flirt with the skirt,

the dish with the fish, and a couple of other nicknames as well.

For the first time in a long while, I had new nicknames to learn thanks to this guy:

Ladies and gentlemen, meet the stiletto in the ghetto, the stiffy by the Liffey, the nail in the Pale, the erection at the intersection, the, well, that's probably enough. The official name has something to do with light... I don't know, I didn't actually pay attention to that part, I just wanted to hear the nicknames! It seemed like everyone I talked to had another one to add to the list. Oh Dublin, I hope you never change.

Try as I might, I couldn't get all my family visits over and done before the Saturday night. We had to be up at 5:00am and a night out wasn't really what I wanted. Still, sometimes that's just the way the cookie crumbles. I had missed meeting up with my uncle in Armagh so he was coming down** to see me on my last night. There's not way to excuse yourself from that, is there?

Al and I had dinner with uncles Lorcan and Kevin and aunt Betty before doing a night time tour of Dalkey. The tour was part of a "let's see who's home" (answer: no one) which then turned into a "Bono lives there, Enya lives there, Neil Jordan lives there, Van Morrison lives there" drive. Of course, we had to stop at the beach by the Canadian ambassador's house and take a picture. That's just the patriotic thing to do!

Oh flash, why do you wash us out so?

Our evening ended with a drive up into the Wicklow Mts. I was sad that I never made it to the area during the day because it really is lovely but these things happen sometimes. We started the night at Johnny Fox's and all it's "traditional pub" touristy glory (although the stuff on the walls does make me laugh) before we moved onto The Blue Light. If you can get to it, definitely check out the Blue Light. Live music, amazing views over Dublin, friendly patrons, and incredibly relaxed. My kind of pub!

This is just proof that I can't take my uncles anywhere!

Look at all the Guinness Kevin wasted!

As much as I had hoped to avoid a Saturday night send off, I couldn't think of a better way to say good bye to Ireland. We told stories, made jokes, laughed until we cried, sang songs, and reminisced. The end of the night came too soon. We rounded ourselves up and headed out to the car. The next day, Al and I would be up before sunrise; we'd pass through Dublin in the dark and half asleep; we'd watch the sun come up as we ate breakfast on the top level of the airport; and we'd watch Ireland slip beneath the plane as we flew to Amsterdam, but our last real memory of Dublin was on that Saturday night.

*It should be noted that they were not successful in capturing all the buildings they went after.

**I wrote that he was coming 'down' because geographically looking at a map, Armagh is north of Dublin, hence, down. If you are ever in Ireland, it is important to know that everything is down from Dublin. We're going down to Donegal for the weekend. We're going down to Monaghan for the night. We're going down to Mayo in a fortnight. You do 'go up to the North' but if you're specifying where in the north, then it's down again. We're going down to Derry next week. Obviously, if everywhere is 'down' from Dublin, then everyone else comes up to Dublin for a visit so when I was talking with my uncle on the phone, he said that he was coming up to Dublin. I giggled because that will never stop being funny to me.

Connemara's Beautiful and Andrea's Wordy

We hold these truths to be self evident!

I awoke on our last Wednesday very stuffed up and suffering from a sore throat. As we our plans included the 1:00pm ferry to Inishmore, Al set off to do some shopping while I rested a bit longer. It seemed like everything was falling into place... until we met up at the ticket office. They had already cancelled the April-October 1:00pm ferry. Um, last I checked it was still October. Of course, the website is updated now but it wasn't when I checked two weeks before our trip. So now I was sick, tired and not going to the Aran Islands.

Well, at least it was gloriously sunny! That was a welcome change.

Looking back at Salthill on my walk into Galway

I pointed out to Al that we were 0 for 3 for cliffs in Ireland: we opted not to see Slieve League because of the rain, we couldn't see Cliffs of Moher because of the fog, and we didn't make it to the cliff at Dun Angus because of the ferries. Well, there's three very compelling reasons for us to have to go back!

I took the change in plans as an excuse to crawl back into bed for the afternoon. Figures, the sun is out and I'm walking around in a t-shirt... and all I want to do is sleep because I'm sick. I'd feel sorry for myself but then I remember that I was living it up on holidays. I could have been sick at home in Victoria while it rained. Perspective... it's good to have it sometimes.

The boat in the middle is called a hooker. It's also the name of a locally brewed beer.

The joke about 'Galway hookers' will never get old.

Yes, I have the maturity of a 10 year old.

Galway City as seen from the Claddagh.

I felt much better after my nap and when Al returned I agreed to head back into town for dinner and drinks on the condition that we didn't stay out too late. We had a low-key dinner, went to a pub know for its Irish music nights that just wasn't the Reel Inn, before deciding to stop at the Front Door for one more pint before bed. Then we met the world's second greatest bartender, Philip, (Emer is still our #1!) and enjoyed chatting with him so much that we hung around for a second pint. Then we met Mike.

I'm posting this photo of him for a reason. Remember this face, people!

He and his group of friends helped us make targets for Philip's elastics (until the night got too busy and Philip actually had to work)...

...and then his friend's left him with me, Al, and Lindsay (a lovely Yank he and his friends had met earlier in the evening) so he started buying all our drinks... and then a few drinks we didn't actually order.

This was actually my first time ever having a Butterball shot.

Where have these been all my life?

Towards the end of the evening, we had this exact conversation:
ME (pointing at my cell phone): Please tell me that says 12:10AM and I'm just too drunk to see the '1'.
AL: No. That says 2:10AM.
ME: Really? F*ck. A pint for the road?
AL: Sure.

So much for our early night. But you know what? It was worth it for the new friends and the awesome bartender. If you're ever in Galway, go to the Front Door, find Philip the bartender, and ask him for "ah, one, ah, hot chocolate" and then duck. Just trust me on this one.

Needless to say, when you crawl into bed at 3:00AM, 7:30AM comes ridiculously fast! Stupid tour of stupid Connemara at stupid o'clock in the stupid morning! But then you see this and decided that all is right with the world.

We switched tour companies for our second tour which meant we lost on the 2nd tour reduced rate but we also had a tour guide who didn't put the radio on! It was worth the extra money to actually feel like the tour guide was more than just a bus driver, so excuse me while I throw a little love their way. I would definitely recommend them if you're ever in Ireland. (As our guide, Michael D., would say they were a great tour company in and of themselves! Which might not make sense to you, but Al and I are rolling on the floor laughing at our hilarity!)

The day started (of course) with a visit to a friary. Having not seen one in almost three days, Al and I were going through withdrawals.

I actually really liked the Ross Errilly Friary because it was a) free and b) surrounded by sheep and cows (which, sadly, were not free. Best souvenir ever!).

Our next stop was the village of Cong which is best known as being the home of the Cross of Cong the village in The Quiet Man. In fact, if you've seen The Quiet Man then this pub should look very familiar to you. (If you haven't seen The Quiet Man then you should rent it tonight at watch it.)

Cong also gave Al and I a chance to change things up and visit an abbey! Always keeps things interesting when you don't get tied into just one type of religious building! It was also the beginning of the 'Mike face photos' which punctuated the rest of our travel photos.

I don't know which was better: the fact that this made us laugh as hard as it did or

the looks we got from everyone else every time we did it.

I liked the Cong Abbey because it was a) free (hear that, Donegal Castle? Two free ruins in one day. Boo-yah!) and b) it was right across the street from an awesome coffee shop. It was a common look for Al and I: camera in one hand, coffee in the other.

Cong is a very quaint, quiet village and while I'd suggest it as a stop for lunch (or coffee), we had half an hour there and were still back at the bus 10 minutes early. It's not really a place I'd recommend as a destination in and of itself. (Also, many of the stores shut down from November to March when there's no tourists so then I really don't recommend going there.)

Connemara is one of my favourite regions of Ireland (the whole northern part of the west coast is the bee's knees for me. The cat's pajamas. The dog's nuts. Wait, what?). Every time Al and I talked about possible Ireland itineraries, I kept putting "Connemara Day" into them regardless of what Al wanted because I'm a selfish friend I know that a trip to Connemara is always worth it. Even in the rain, Connemara is beautiful. If you go to Ireland and visit Connemara because of my recommendation and this it was a complete waste of your time, I will buy you a pint.*

Plus it's home to the Connemara Pony which sometimes you get to see. Or, if you go with the GTC, you'll get to feed one!

They call him Mr. Pony. Michael D opened the bus doors and whistled as we drove past.

Mr. Pony raced with the bus the length of the field and then patiently waited while we were

dolled out apple slices to feed him.

I LIKE PONIES!!

There's a lot of history in the region, lots of stories to tell about it, but more than anything else, it's just beautiful. It's a 'pictures will never do it justice' kind of place. But let's try anyway, shall we?

For hikers, the region is home to the Twelve Bens** and I've often thought what a wonderful weekend trip it would be to hike a few of them over the two days. Apparently crazy people like to hike all of them in 24 hours. For once, even my crazy thinks that's crazy! How can you enjoy the views if you're just running off to the next one? (Plus, that leaves no time for stopping in at the pubs!)

Like all Connemara tours, we eventually found ourselves at Kylemore Abbey. I'll be honest with you, I've now been to Kylemore Abbey three times. Next time, I'm bringing a book and staying on the bus... well, after I take the required Kylemore Abbey photo, of course.

Most original Kylemore Abbey photo you will ever see! EVER!

The grounds are very nice and if it's your first time visit, you should pay the entrance fee and go check them out (you do not, however, need to pay the fee to get the photo above) but it's not really a location which bears repeat visits (unlike Connemara itself). There's some lovely walks, they've done a great job with restoring the largest walled Victorian garden in Ireland (if you need that many qualifiers, I don't think you should get to brag about it), and... well, that's about it really: walks and garden. Knock yourself out, kids!

Still, we did get to see some lovely assess^.

WAIT! I was talking about these guys:

We stopped in Galway just quick enough to grab a bite to eat and then caught the GTC bus back to Dublin. As sad as I was to not actually get to see Ireland roll past us on our last bus trip, I was thankful to just get the trip over and done with especially now that it's a toll motorway that avoids all towns (as opposed to when I lived in Galway and you still had to drive through Athlone or other larger towns).

Returning to Dublin made it official: our trip was nearing its end.

*Totally serious on this one but you have to live close enough to me that we can go for the pint together and you can tell me exactly why you didn't enjoy Connemara. (I want you to look me in the eye and say "I hated it".)

**Ben (sometimes written Pin or Bin) is the anglicised version of the old Gaelic words for mountain (regional differences means I've found five different spellings of the original word, but beinn or beann seem to be the most common.). Many mountains in Ireland and Scotland contain 'Ben' in the name.

^The two guys in the first photo turned out to be really nice. They were on our tour and after a couple of quips back and forth through out the morning, they approached us at Kylemore and struck up a conversation. Unfortunately for them, Al and I just weren't function at all and I'm sure we came across quite b!tchy as we just wandered away after niceties had been exchanged. It was a moment I wish I could have gone back and redone when I wasn't so, um, under the weather. Our travel plans were the same for the next three days, they were Canadians who knew hockey, and they were hot obviously trying to engage us in perhaps meeting up in Dublin. It's not that I think we all would have become great friends and would totally stay in touch and visit each other, it just would have been nice to have someone to meet up with for lunch on the Saturday for example. I also debated about telling them to check out Croke Park because they were hockey guys and that would have been right up their alley. Instead, out of the three times I thought "mention Croke Park to them", I said nothing twice and then awkwardly mumbled 'see ya around' the last time. It's probably the only part of the trip I honestly really wish I could do over. If anyone reading this recognizes those two assess from the picture, please tell the boys Al and I say 'hi' and they should totally check out Croke Park.

Backtracking Through Ireland

The great thing about travelling with someone is that they take pictures of you so you get to relive all those silly things you did which you wouldn't take pictures of. Before I post the final two Ireland posts, I've decided to backtrack and post a couple of Al's photos that I got from her today.

This is how you do a pub crawl in Dublin:

And that's why I needed a sexy hot coffee the next morning:

See, I told you I made friends with that horse!

This is my 'wind so strong it's going to knock me over' mime dance at Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge. It was closely followed by my 'let's get the hell back to the sheltered bus' mime dance.

If you complain about the lame rip-off that is the Donegal Castle too loudly, they lock you in. Or maybe this was the morning after the night at the pub. I'm not sure. To be honest, the whole two days there are a little hazy.

And thus ends my overly narcissistic blog post (all posts are somewhat narcissistic, it's the nature of the beast, but most posts don't have photos of only me). Until the next time I feel the need to say "look at ME!"

'Round the Salthill Prom with a Galway girl

Saying good bye to Donegal was probably the hardest morning of our trip. We ate our breakfast and wrote a bunch of postcards in relative silence. Occasionally, one of us would smile at the other and ask “do you remember last night when...”and we’d lose ourselves in thoughts of Michael wanting to know all the news from Canada, or Frankie singing some republican song, or banjo man being amazing on the banjo (never did learn his name), or Emer giving lip to some surely local who should know better than to piss off the barmaid.

Our decision to mail our postcards from Donegal would later come back to haunt us. Mailed October 10th, received in Canada on November 4th. Al and I decided that the mailman in Donegal was someone we met and he/she kept the cards a little longer to share our stories of the town with the other people we had met. Or An Post rowed the cards across the Atlantic. Either or!

We broke up our day of travel to Galway by stopping for lunch in Sligo. The guide book had talked about Sligo being a vibrant, artsy community so we figured it was good distraction from a four hour bus trip. I don’t know if we just completely missed the ‘small town artisan’ area or if Sligo had really changed that much in the three years since the book was published but neither of us were impressed. Mind, we had also just left our beloved Donegal Town; even winning the jackpot in Vegas would have been *meh* on that day.

We headed to the ruins of the friary because there didn’t seem to be much else to do. It was only €3 and a million times better than the Donegal Castle (I really can not stress enough exactly how unimpressed I was with the castle especially seeing as it was €4) but we were hung over and sad and therefore blasé about the place. With coffee in one hand and camera in the other, we wandered the ruins just taking random pictures without actually looking at what we were looking at.

When going back through my photos and remembering what I had read on the pamphlet, I found the friary a lot more enjoyable than I did on the day. It was picturesque, calm, and we all know that I love ruins. If I’m in the area, I’d stop in again... but only if I wasn’t hung over.

Despite the fact that Sligo Town didn’t really win us over, I do have to give it props for an awesome street name.

After a late arrival into Galway and a bed kerfuffle which left us scrambling for a hotel room at 9:30pm, we awoke the next morning to this:

Somewhere in that picture is Galway.

Boo-urns!

We had booked a tour to the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher in Co. Clare which would take up most of the day. We got picked up around the corner from our hotel by a young, friendly and chatty driver. He spent the whole ride into Galway (we were staying in Salthill which is across the river) telling stories and giving us tips on what to see and do in Galway. Once we met up with the rest of the tour, he pretty much stopped talking. It wasn’t a bad bus tour—we saw everything they said we’d see (sort of), we arrived and left on time, we did enjoy ourselves—it was just that the guides were the quietest people I’ve ever met in Ireland. I think I did more talking on that trip than they did.

We started the day by driving through the Burren. Having done a tour through it before I know some odd facts about it but poor Al learned only this: there are a lot of limestone rocks and it doesn’t look like anywhere else in Ireland we had been.

It’s hard to believe by looking at the pictures but people actually do farm on the Burren. Some plots were painfully cleared by hand over generations of farming, others are used as grazing land. It’s easy to think ‘why would anyone bother?’ but when the English drove the Irish west, it was farm on this land or starve. Plus the soil is supposedly quite fertile... if you can find any.

There's a hike through this region called The Burren Way.

Looks like 'Ankle Twister Way' would have been a better name...

We left the Burren and headed to Doolin for lunch before we hit up the cliffs. Doolin is a cute little village but it’s also the lunch stop for every single tour to the Cliffs of Moher. For about an hour every day, the population of Doolin quadruples as all the tourists fight for the limited seats in the main pub.

Doolin = more signs than buildings!

We traipsed back onto the bus giddy with anticipation. Anyone who has ever seen photos of Ireland has seen the iconic image of the Cliffs of Moher shooting straight up from the Atlantic. ‘Come to Ireland,’ they beckon. ‘We have cliffs!’ The cliffs have even featured in a few videos such as Westlife’s ‘My Love’. (Judge me all you want, but I like that song.) We eagerly walked towards the cliff edge and took in the glory which is the Cliffs of Moher.

Aren't they just awe-inspiring? To prove I didn't just steal that breath-taking photo from another website, here's me in front of the cliffs.

The fog came in waves and we did manage to see the cliffs... sort of... eventually... a little...

If I tilt my screen away from me, squint my left eye, then realigning the

order of the planets by mass, I can totally see the cliffs in this picture!

What can you do in a situation like this except laugh? We joked that we’d tell people that we went to the Cliffs of Moher and if they took that to mean we actually saw them then that wasn’t our fault. Do you know how many people see the cliffs every year? We’re such hipsters that we went to the cliffs and didn’t even bother seeing them!

Talking Telescope asked me why I wasted €1 on it.

On our way back to Galway we stopped at the Poulnabrone Dolmen which kind of harshed my buzz, man. It’s not that I didn’t want to see it, but the radio was in the middle of broadcasting an interview with Brian O’Driscoll when the guide turned the engine off. (Just think about that for a moment: our guide was saying so little that he actually had the radio on!!) Sorry ancient Celts, but I wanted to know O'Driscoll's feelings on Ireland's loss to Wales (especially seeing as he probably won't be around next RWC) so you were not my favourite people that day!

It’s estimated that the top slab weighs about five tonnes.* FIVE TONNES!! I have no idea how those people managed to lift it but I’m going to take an educated guess and say time-travelling-crane (and operator). I could be wrong, but I doubt it.

And with that, our tour headed back to Galway.

*I read this in a book but am unable to find anything online which backs it up (or contradicts it either...) so it is quite possible that it doesn't weigh that much. Either way, it still weighs a lot!