Maybe it's the fact that I didn't have to think of a question I was going to ask a full 10 minutes before I actually needed to ask it or perhaps it was the ungodly sexy nature of the irish accent that sends my heart into a tailspin. Either way, all I'm saying is that I should have majored in drinking Guinness so I could have studied abroad in Ireland.
Where to begin? Well, I could start you out discussing the bus ride from hell, departing Spanish-land central promptly at 10:30 pm and arriving a grueling 8 hours later half-way across the country in Barcelona. Yes, we could start there only to continue to discuss the 9 hour lay-over [so to speak] that we had to endure in the Barcelona airport, which we found only after wandering around the Barcelona bus station for approximately 2 hours at 6:30 in the morning. That would then lead us to the 2 hour questionable [at best] RyanAir experience in which structural integrity of the aircraft and attentiveness/overall quality of flight-staff were taken under extreme consideration. Let's just say, our petty, meaningless lives were in the hands of a poorly paid, barely functioning airline that provided a nonstop infomercial selling smokeless cigarettes and lotto tickets. And when I say nonstop, please understand that I mean one stewardess would walk up the aisle holding a box of [duty-free!] cologne while another walked down the same aisle holding a smattering of airline reading material. They would perform a hand-off in the middle and continue on in opposite directions. We weren't seriously concerned prior to boarding, despite a few discouraging remarks made by fellow expats, however things took a turn when we asked the steward where we were to sit [as they clearly forgot to put our seat numbers on our boarding passes] and he replied, 'wherever you like.'
Anyway, we could start out there, but I'll save you the mundane details and we'll skip straight to the photos.
Armed with nothing but our backpacks, this is the first sight our eyes feasted upon after turning a corner from confusing irish city to bustling irish paradise. [perhaps for the sake of my mothers out there, I should leave out the part where we LUCKILY found temple bar after boarding a 30-mintute bus from the airport] but what's life if not adventure? aaannnd, obviously I am safe and sound here in my Spanish apartment, so I'll go for it.
Here Lindsay and I are, a full 20 hours post-departure with minimal sleep and optimal excitement, a bit lost in the lovely city of Dublin. We boarded a bus, dreary and a little disoriented, not quite sure where we were supposed to be getting off as we had booked a one-night stay at a random temple bar hostel the day before. We were quietly [which, as it turned out, was not so quietly] discussing our situation when these Dutch gentlemen queried as to our destination. As we were unsure as to where we were actually going, we just said that we were going to get off wherever everyone else got off and go from there. They had agreed that we had a good plan, and they were going to do the same. Continuing our decent into the abysmal quagmire that was our confusion, we discussed the possible outcome of perhaps sleeping on the streets of Dublin and how that may turn out poorly should we come across any unfriendly characters. Just then, as our luck would have it, an elderly irish chap tapped me on the shoulder and asked, 'where abouts ye girls headed?' [true, i could have forwent the quotation and merely stated that he asked where we were going, but he literally said, 'where abouts ye girls headed?' which is adorable] When we said Temple Bar, he whispered us some quick directions so as not to attract unwanted attention from the handful of other lost and disgruntled tourists on the airport bus headed for nowhere.
Here Lindsay and I are, a full 20 hours post-departure with minimal sleep and optimal excitement, a bit lost in the lovely city of Dublin. We boarded a bus, dreary and a little disoriented, not quite sure where we were supposed to be getting off as we had booked a one-night stay at a random temple bar hostel the day before. We were quietly [which, as it turned out, was not so quietly] discussing our situation when these Dutch gentlemen queried as to our destination. As we were unsure as to where we were actually going, we just said that we were going to get off wherever everyone else got off and go from there. They had agreed that we had a good plan, and they were going to do the same. Continuing our decent into the abysmal quagmire that was our confusion, we discussed the possible outcome of perhaps sleeping on the streets of Dublin and how that may turn out poorly should we come across any unfriendly characters. Just then, as our luck would have it, an elderly irish chap tapped me on the shoulder and asked, 'where abouts ye girls headed?' [true, i could have forwent the quotation and merely stated that he asked where we were going, but he literally said, 'where abouts ye girls headed?' which is adorable] When we said Temple Bar, he whispered us some quick directions so as not to attract unwanted attention from the handful of other lost and disgruntled tourists on the airport bus headed for nowhere.
That was a long explaination for that one photo, eh?
ahh, okay. So onto more important ventures, irish cuisine.
Now doen't get me wrong, fish 6 out of 7 nights of the week can be wonderful if cooked properly,
however Spanish bacalao has got nothing on authentic Irish shepherd's pie.
Get out, this was amazing!
the Temple Bar in Temple Bar.
oh helloooo.
that's a jag. btw.
Our most anticipated destinated: Guinness storehouse.
We made it!
[after walking around for an hour, getting stopped by a street guard who asked if we were lost]
to which we replied, 'no, we're just not exactly sure of where we are. or where we're going.'
to which we replied, 'no, we're just not exactly sure of where we are. or where we're going.'
He swiftly gave us directions with the added bonus of this wonderful little piece of advice:
Just be careful where you wander, or you may not wander there again . . .
eerie, right? I know, I was there.
The one bit of factual knowledge I gleaned from the Guinness tour:
Arthur Guinness signed a 9,000 year lease on the property currently housing the brewry.
Smart man, I say.
This is the lease. It's kept in the floor.
So during this trip, I have stumbled upon a few neat funcions my camera is capable of and here I have tried to create something of a compilation of photos that can only be described as utterly guinness. i mean genius.
Oh yeah, then we took a beer pouring class and this is the result of excellent attention paying skills and an eagerness to earn my Guinness perfect pour certificate, which I earned, naturally.
[notice the proud-head just above the lip of the glass, as the head is proud of the rim]
hehe, proud head.
While sipping our delicious [dare I say perfectly poured] stout, we decided to try our hand at a few Guinness advertisement-esque photos. I think we would win an advertisement-esque photo shoot hall of fame award or something equivalent if there ever were such a ridiculous thing to be won.
This is O'Neil's, the irish pub we at which we ate dinner three consecutive nights.
We also caught Paranormal Activity III while enjoying our first night out in Dublin.
The theater was so cute. I tried my hand at a couple other photo color techniques on some unsuspecting passers-by.
This is so totally not R-Patt by the way.
Striking resemblence, just not him. : /
These two were together, hence the same coke cup.
This is a church in Cork, where we stayed Saturday night over into Sunday afternoon.
In Cork, that is, not the church. Although that would have been baller.
The yellow/orange leaves a changing and the moderately cool temperatures
made me miss home in the worst way.
A bit rainy and cold on Sunday morning, but we pressed on,
fulfilling our duties of picture taking and adventure having. All-in-all, great trip!
So this is going on record as the longest blog post to date, however keeping an accurate record of all the goings-on throughout the course of an entire weekend is a lengthy process. Of course there are more stories, therefore I am actually dubbing this blog post 'Ireland I' as I am planning of updated tomorrow with other nonsensical bullshit about the actual trip itself. So until tomorrow guys and gals . . .
<3
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