Me, Myself, and I's Bodacious Adventure

Hello to all who may still check in on the blog. I decided to take time out on a gorgeous afternoon day in Dingle to inform you of and hopefully entertain you with some of the stories I've made since traveling alone. If you would like to know more about the time I spent with Emily and Mike then you're out of luck because I think it's her turn to tell that tale. Almost a week ago to the day started my independent vagabond adventure. I've bounced from the Callaghan home near Charlestown, Co. Mayo to Bundoran, Co. Donegal and now Dingle, Co. Kerry. I've surfed with cliffs in the background in the rain, cycled on windy mountain roads for over 30 miles, and have found myself with distantly related family riding in a local taxi in the early morning where no directions are required. I have been to or passed through nearly every county in Ireland and encountered people from every continent except Antarctica but I don't imagine I'll meet a talking penguin anytime soon. How's that for a primer?

Callaghan Home and Charlestown

Emily and Mike dropped me off at the Callaghan house in Mayo near Charlestown last Saturday after a lovely week of tight "2 way" roads and a GPS voice named Samantha who found it humorous to send us on the most rural of roads. The Callaghans were kind enough to give me a bed for Saturday and Sunday night and Aine was nice enough to come home for the weekend and keep me company. The daytime during the weekend was very relaxed as I played violin with Sean, football with Fergal and his friend, and cycling around the countryside with Aine. I was also fed more food than I have ever had in my entire life. I think they ate about 6 or 7 times a day and I had a dinner at 1:30pm! When they say "tea" it's closer to a main course. It was all very lovely though as we had a lot of good conversation by the burning turf fireplace and they were more than hospitable. They were even kind enough to give me a lift into town so I could catch the bus to Bundoran.

The nights around Charlestown were a bit different than the days. I have to say that I am still continually surprised by Irish towns. Charlestown, a population under 2,000, supports 15 pubs...
Saturday evening Aine took me into town where there were surprisingly a lot of people on an off-night. Everybody knew each other so I stuck out as a foreigner right away. We went to two different places and Aine knew the bouncers and most of the bartenders at both. As always I danced more for the amusement of others watching me and I think I was the only person in Charlestown that night that has/could dance to Flo-Rida. The most amusing part of the night for me however was not the pubs or my dancing antics but the "taxi ride" home. You see there are two taxis in Charlestown and after the night was over I think we were informed that the other had his license revoked. Aine called up Steve the taxi man and we met him and his minivan across the street from where we had been. You pay a flat rate and hop into the communal taxi. Directions weren't necessary in this taxi as it is such a small town he knows exactly where you live. Sitting in the van with 4 old men while speeding down dark back roads, I felt as if I was in "the flying coffin" near Villanova. The night was a good one and I much appreciated the cheaper prices compared to Dublin (about 40% less actually).

Sunday night Aine, her friend Eoin (Owen), and I went to the Cinema to see State of Play. On the way in we passed a Carnival that Aine wanted to detour to but unfortunately for her it was closed on our way out... We had a great night and Ben Affleck playing a serious role surprisingly didn't ruin the night. I think I was the only one in the theater that was angry about the Pittsburgh v Philly undertone that only an informed observer could pick out. Before going home we stopped at a Chinese place which for some reason, like pubs, exist in a disproportionate amount. On a one street town there were 2 Chinese places. I guess one of the most amusing events of the night happened while waiting for our food. Sitting on a bench inside we all of a sudden heard a very drunk 20 something yelling very loudly. Next thing we know a short argument ensued between the man working because he refused to serve him any food. The drunk man didn't really have much of a case though because he somehow managed to pop himself up through the window of the restaurant with half his body in and the other out. He felt that was a fine enough place and position to place an order while clearly the worker disagreed.

Bundoran

I left the Callaghan's house Monday morning and took a bus up to Bundoran with a change over in Sligo. This was the first time I was completely on my own and I admit it was fairly intimidating. Would I find the Surf Lodge I planned to stay in? Will I miss a bus change and end up in jabip (county youklasdlk)? I found the lodge easily enough as it was right near the bus stop. I didn't arrive until the afternoon so I really could only wander the town and get some food. Bundoran is kind of like the Jersey shore; during the off-season it's got 3,000 people and come mid-may it has 24k. I hit it before the summertime boom so at first I was a little disappointed. The town was nice enough but the most people in a pub at night was about 15 and that was for a Man U match. All of those worries quickly dissipated though once I got onto the water. I hadn't surfed in nearly 2 years and have always been self-taught so I really appreciated the pointers the guide had for me. It was also my first time wearing a wetsuit and sparing the embarrassing details it showed haha. The weather wasn't nice but the surf was good two days in a row. I stayed in a dorm room with an Irish guy and a German girl and both were good people. I can say that after two days of surfing I am much more confident in my abilities and can't wait to hit long beach Island when I get back. I also wish I could have taken a picture of the scenery that I was privileged to see as I was on the water. Bundoran was fun and I had a great time. Here was one amusing tid-bit: The first Pub I went into upon my arrival had the news on. Like I'm sure back home, the piggy flu is all over it... An Irish guy passed by me on the way to the bathroom yelling, "We're all gonna die!" over and over again. When he came back he looked me stern in the face and said, "Are ye dead yet?" to which I responded, "No.. not yet. Just steer clear of the Corona."

Dingle

Upon looking up bus time tables online, to my surprise and dismay the shortest bus ride from Bundoran to Dingle was 10 hours long with 4 changes. I decided to bite the bullet though since there was no alternative available and at 9am I set off on nearly the longest route in Ireland. Dingle is the Western most European town in the South of Ireland and Bundoran is in Co. Donegal which is the Northern most point. On Thursday I traversed the entirety of the West Coast stopping in Sligo, Galway, Limerick, Tralee, and finally Dingle. I helped a non-english speaking lady make it onto the bus before the driver pulled away, saw a child run onto the bus to say goodbye to her mom that was sitting right next to me in the cutest of fashions, and had my own personal tour guide in an elderly lady that sat next to me on the way to Tralee. On 3 different occasions that day I was mistaken as an Irish person even after speaking and several others where an Irish person picked up only a "hint" of an American accent after a few sentences. I finally pulled into Dingle, a remote town on the Dingle Peninsula, around 7:20. Hungry and exhausted I stumbled through the town in search of an ATM and some food. I'm not sure whether it was the hunger and exhaustion or not, but it seemed there was something strange in the water of Dingle. Everyone was eerily happy and every so often a random tin whistle and drum band would march through the street. I later found out upon entering the hostel, from an equally interesting soft-spoken character named Kat, that there is a cultural festival going on this entire weekend. That at least explained part of the strangeness around the town.

So every once in awhile you enter a hostel that is just comically bad in some ways. For what it's worth this one is fine, but a couple things stick out that you can really only laugh about. The first is that you are not given a key. The doors are all unlocked inside the hostel and the outside door, although a key code is normally required, is broken and by turning it a special way will open up. After laughing to myself at this absurdity I decided to get a shower as I felt kind of icky after my long trip. Upon turning on the shower and feeling the low pressure, I felt more akin to a Christmas ham being covered by a warm glaze. Afterwards I wandered down to O'Flahterys and made friends with the Barlady Angela because there was pretty much no one else in there at the time. I even got to use my Irish as the locals in Dingle speak it!

The next morning I set out of the first leg of my cycling adventure. I use the word cycling now because if you say you are going to "bike" something they get confused and think motorbike. They recognize bike as a noun and biking as a verb but "to bike" is not really used. The Slea Head Road was gorgeous and I'm very glad I did it but I regret taking the mountain pass on the way back. It is one of the hardest things I've ever done and I hadn't eaten a proper meal all day. I now know I need energy food before going out cycling. Along the way I saw some of the largest ocean waves I have ever seen in my life and this was on a calm day. There is some video footage that I'll post when I return home. I again was able to use some Irish when saying hello to some friendly construction workers that waved to me as I passed by.

The night time was interesting. The son of the Hostel owner who works it ran the first ever Dingle pub crawl. We were taken to places that were half-bar half-hardware store and half-bar half-clothing store. There was plenty of good music and I got to meet a lot of different locals and foreigners. Near the end of the night I found myself in the company of two Australians, a Kenyan born Dingle local and his girlfriends Dad. The Australian won a drinking contest so the Dad was buying him and his girlfriend drinks to which they didn't really have a choice. I had plenty of laughs and great conversation about Philadelphia and Ireland in general. When traveling alone you meet and talk to the most interesting people. Even with a single companion you are more likely to only speak to them than if you were flying solo. Sometimes it can be hard as you won't speak to a soul for an entire day but it is all worth once you meet a stranger or find yourself somewhere you never expected to be.

My adventure will continue as I will remain in Dingle until Monday and set off for Kilarney and the start of the Ring of Kerry. I will hopefully complete that 120 mile trek and if I have anything left in the tank I'll attempt the Beara Peninsula also (80+ miles). I'll try to return in one piece. God bless.