Even though I'm leaving Ireland in a matter of too-few hours, I do intend to finish this blog, if for no other reason than to never forget how awesome my trip was.
On our last day in Belfast, we were able to go to Gareth's house for tea in the morning. He was home alone with Emilia. At one point I said, "I wish I could just live here and hang out with you guys all the time." He laughed at me. "I'm not joking," I continued. "I know you're not joking." I wasn't.
May didn't want to be in any photos, but I thought this was a sweet one she couldn't dislike too much.
Chelsea, Emilia, Gareth, Abby
She had been smiling a split second earlier.
Abby and I took the bus down to Dublin, and got our rental car. Driving on the left was plenty terrifying. I was really grateful that there was an automatic available; I would not have even attempted to learn stick AND drive on the left AND deal with their crazy narrow roads. I got butterflies in my stomach every time I passed an oncoming car, and I frequently bumped the tire (tyre — best spelling) against the curb (kerb — well that just looks silly). Also, I can't believe the speeds they expect on some of their narrow, winding roads! However, once on the motorway, I was doing OK.
At this part of the trip, it fully hit me that Abby and I were doing this. Here, we didn't have anyone to hang out with, look after us, etc. It was just her and me, driving to places neither of us had ever been before, with very few set plans.
Driving to Galway.
A church in Athenry. I stopped here for petrol, and also because of the song.
The only thing we had really booked was our hostel in Galway, the entrance of which was down a dodgy side street where we were later told the drunks hang out. The staff were all very helpful, but the accommodations were abysmal. We spent ages at reception, being talked into a "better" room (we hadn't seen any at this point). In our room, there was hardly space to turn around. We were just there to sleep, so that was livable. But, on rising the next day, I found my aging bones in a great deal of pain. One of the worst night's sleep ever, when my back had been doing OK up until that point. The bathroom was en suite, a theoretical benefit, but let me just tell you about the shower, shall I? (Unfortunately, there are no photos of any of this.)
First of all, there is no shower curtain (fully tiled floor, that's fine, but there was no place to put a towel or your clothes so they wouldn't get soaked), and no lock on the door, so you just have to hope that people realize you're in there and don't walk in. You press this button on the wall, and the freezing water begins to run. You let it run, waiting for it to warm up, when after about 20 seconds it shuts off completely. After blinking sleepily a few times, you try the button again, receiving another 20 seconds of cold water. You continue this process the whole time, the only change being that the water skips any comfortable temperature range and goes right to scalding after the 3rd or 4th time. I'm not exaggerating; I thought real harm was being done to my body. And, with my tangly curly hair, it was not even worth the effort to try to wash it.
The shower was the last straw for me. We were meant to be there for two more nights, but I couldn't focus on anything else that morning but getting the heck out of there. I frantically scoured the internet for B&B locations, and found that most of them were full up on at least one of the nights we needed. Finally, one of the B&B owners I called gave me the number of a couple just outside of Galway who were unlisted but had availability. I booked the rooms, sight unseen, over the phone at 8:30 am. Maybe my age has something to do with it, but those conditions seemed completely unreasonable for anybody.
The B&B was at a couple's house, barely 10 minutes out of town. It had been recently renovated, and everything is clean and new. The house is bright with a lovely back garden, and the neighborhood is peaceful. I feel we were led to just the right place.
The B&B. Recommended.
A room for real people.
The owner's names are Ted and Alice. Alice was out, so we talked to Ted about some things to do in the area. We planned to go to the Cliffs of Moher that day, but he said, "They're just cliffs." He told us to go to Connemara instead. He also gave us the names of a couple of pubs to check out. We still wanted to go to the cliffs, but we figured it would be better to do that on our way back out to Dublin.
How can I describe the Connemara area? I never expected anything like that landscape. I knew Ireland had more diverse terrain than I had seen before, but this was more like driving through Colorado, though there was much more green and water. I think I'm fair in saying that Abby and I were in constant awe. We tried to take photos during the drive, but it's impossible to do justice to the beauty we saw. The pictures are really, really lacking. Still, maybe you can get an idea. Be aware that you can click on the photos to view them larger.
This is supposed to be a 2-way road.
"That's supposed to say Bank of Ireland?" -Abby
Mountains
Sheep on the side of the road
Azaleas and gorse
Rugged
Proof I done it
Stopped over at Kylemore Abbey, but did not go in.
Our car, a Nissan Micra.
Hard to say no.
SO rugged.
My perfect house. Turned around on the road to take a photo of this, and then began driving on the right again.
Partway through the photos above, we stopped in a town called Clifden, where we bought cheese and wheaten bread for sandwiches, and then headed up the Sky Road — something Ted emphasized (several times) that we must do. Imagine a picnic on a stone wall overlooking an island-dotted bay, the sun warming you through the salt breeze, horses grazing behind you, patchwork fields and stony outcrops spread out before you, and the smooth patches of the water like pieces of sea glass among the gentle tide. Honestly I can't even describe it.
Clifden.
Viewing point along Sky Road, where we had our picnic.
I probably took 50 photos of each view.
Continuing the series.
Beautiful girl.
Whistle yoga
Horse #1,
Horse #2.
We continued on a bit of a scenic drive, and then headed back to Galway, where we went to McDonagh's or fish and chips (or chips and mushy peas), which we ate at a park along the water. Both sides of the embankment were crowded, with groups of strangers sitting right next to each other. I couldn't think of anywhere in Nashville — or any city in the States, for that matter — where people would be happy to enjoy a still, sunny evening within such close proximity to people they don't know. We are precious about our personal space, which I am OK with; but there is something more appealing to me about the community created in such an environment. That is a major change I've noticed in myself over the past year or two, a desire for community.
Kids playing rugby along the bay.
Galwegians enjoying the fine evening.
After our incredible drive, we went home and spent some time in the garden with Ted and Alice. We then headed to the Crane, a pub Ted recommended for the music. It was packed with a mix of locals and American tourists. We got our first Guinness of the trip, and settled in to watch people and enjoy the great music. We mostly sat in silence (I'm so glad Abby appreciates it like I do — not everyone can take that much Irish trad), but at one point Abby looked over at me and said, "Chelsea. We're listening to Irish musicians, in a pub, in Ireland." "I can't believe it!" I returned, which is a sentiment I've expressed several times throughout this trip. At least two large dogs entered the pub with their owners during the time we were there. I thought that was great. I love that this is so not America.
Maybe the best Guinness I had all trip.
At the Crane.
The Crane.
The next morning, as we ate the great breakfast provided by Alice (note to self: grill more tomatoes), Alice happened to find a LivingSocial deal for a trip to Inisheer (one of the Aran Islands) and a cruise along the Cliffs of Moher. She called the company to find out more details for us, and they were able to give us the same price advertised online, as well as allow us to use it the very next day. It was €15 per person for this trip, more than 50% off. It was so perfect. We booked the trip, and headed to Galway town for the day.
Ted is a taxi driver, and he told us where we could park for free. I parked way too far out of town, but it was lovely weather, so the walk was good. Abby and I walked along the beach of Galway Bay, then into town...
Galway Bay.
A shellfish shell.
There's a lighthouse in this image.
We checked out some shops, and the free city museum.
From an exhibit at the museum, an ordinance in Galway.
Handwritten U2 poster.
Recruitment posters.
Stopped briefly at the Quays — a bar Gordon told us about, with multiple staggered interior levels. We had a pint of Beamish stout to try something new. There, we listened to some American women be very American. Why are they so loud? Why must they take up so much SPACE?
Inside the Quays.
It was nice, earthier than Guinness.
Apparently this is not easily translatable into English.
The day was quite hot, probably the warmest one yet. We found a nice bookshop, spent some time by the river talking about books, and then went back to the bookshop to buy more of the ones we had talked about.
At the bookstore.
Along the water.
We headed over to Tig Coili, where they frequently have live sessions. Tried a pale ale that is made in Galway; it was very good. Named after a specific kind of boat found in the area, it is called Galway Hooker. The session was also very good. I liked that the men who were playing were all different ages. I don't know how long we stayed, but it was at least a couple of hours. Afterwards, the bodhrán player came and talked to us. The first thing he said to me was, "You handle your pints quite well." He was under the impression that I had had 5 pints during the course of their session, but actually I'd had two fewer (one was given me for free). Still, I accepted the compliment, and we began to talk about music. Usually older men come to talk to me at these things. I mean, I pay very close attention to the music, especially here in Ireland where I don't want to miss anything. I'm sure my keen interest is the main reason for why this happens. The only thing I specifically recall is how much he hated the Chieftains. I had gotten the feeling earlier that it probably wasn't something I should mention to most Irish musicians… It was probably a bit of sour grapes, but he sure was vehement.
A pint.
Some pints.
Flute, guitar, banjo, fiddle, bodhrán.
Lovely walk on the way home, where we spent some more time talking with Ted and Alice, who are just such sweet people. We really were so blessed to come across them. They provided us with good food, conversation, and information. And, above all, clean sheets and a working shower.
On the walk home.
Galway Bay.
With Ted and Alice. Guess who set the self-timer?
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