Ireland

I’ve been in Dublin since yesterday evening, and took another heavy history tour this morning (I’ll spare the details for next time), and whilst visiting the tourist center this afternoon I decided to step it up a little bit and do a fun little tour of Galway and the Aran Islands with the Shamrockers. I leave my lovely hotel in a dumpy area I’d describe as akin to visiting Manhattan and sleeping in the Bronx tomorrow, returning to Dublin on Friday, and shall update you on my adventures!

XOXO

On Jul 21, 2012, at 10:28:08 PM GMT, Pamela wrote:
Great Craic!

While speaking to the tour guide at check-in I covertly perused the roster, and seriously contemplated bailing. No private rooms in the hostel?? DOB 1992?? Then I thought of my dear friend Millie’s advice after reading my sad girl in Edinburgh email- Don’t be shy, and you’ll probably never see these people again, so just be whoever you want to be. I decided I would be low maintenance, and at least five years younger, and joined the Shamrockers for a three day tour to Galway and the Aran Islands. Happily, the Type A I pegged as most likely to be just like me – sat down next to me on the bus and introduced herself. Courtney from Canada and I chatted away over the incessant chatter of our tour guide. We were the only ones to attempt to see the entire city of Ennis during our first stop (done!), ordered the exact same thing for lunch, and climbed the Cliffs of Moher in the hurricane winds twice in an hour just for a bit of additional exercise. Our guide made us stand up in the front of the bus and introduce ourselves, talk about our holiday, and either tell a joke or confess our fantasy celebrity snog. I learned that most of the group were Aussies or Canadians, my holiday is actually quite short comparatively (some are traveling thru December!), no one ever remembers jokes, and I don’t know many celebrities, but everyone knows my crush, Marky Mark Wahlberg.

We stopped in the creepiest place in Ireland- Moneygall. Creepy in a sad way because ever since President Barry O stopped in last year, the small town has changed to a tribute to the 45 minutes he spent visiting the pub and his ancestor’s home. His face is plastered on plaques all over the tiny town, there’s an Obama Cafe, a continual loop of the visit is played in the pub, there’s American flags painted on buildings, and a maniacal old lady that lures you in despite your protestations, and walks you ad nauseum through that glorious day when Obama walked into the tiny cottage of his great great great grandfather. In case you’re wondering, he took his first step through the threshold, stomped a polished loafer and proudly proclaimed, “I’m home!” (eye rolling)

Our 100 percent Irish tour guide, Catherine, literally talked the entire three hour bus ride. She described the proper way to drink a Guinness (three swigs specifically), the health benefits of hot whiskey, how to catch a leprechaun (super useful), and the most handy phrases to memorize while visiting Ireland as follows: Fech- this is not what you think it is, it’s actually just a four letter word that sounds similar and can effectively be used as an adjective or verb in the exact same manner; but again, it is not a bad word. Grand- this response is appropriate when something is okay or even really terrible, as in your dog just died and your neighbor asks how you’re doing. Most importantly, craic! What’s the craic? Its good craic! Everyone from kiddies to old cabbie drivers actually use it. “The craic was 90,” for pretty fechen awesome, and “the craic was 91,” for the best night of your life, “great craic in there,” etc. Chatty Catherine actually was very knowledgable and threw in a hearty dose of history from the Vikings, to the potato blight of 1845-1847, Daniel O’Connell aka the Great Liberator, the IRA and the Bloody Sunday Bono sings about.

On our way to Galway we took another couple of pit stops. First, at the breathtaking Cliffs of Moher; they actually filmed some scenes for Harry Potter here and you can see why, it looks like a dragon might fly by! Then we stopped on the moon. Actually, it’s an area of limestone that stretches for miles and miles along the coast that looks like you’re on the surface of the moon.

On arrival at our hostel I inquired one last time about a private room but no such luck! Fortunately, my roomies were all really cool – a nice Greek boy from Orange County who seemed perfectly fine sharing a room with five chicks, three Aussie hairdressers that looked like they were from the Jersey Shore (apparently that show is really popular!!), wore about an inch of makeup at all times of the day, and were best friends but made rude and appalling remarks about each other at random throughout the trip (very sweet otherwise), and a darling 19 year old Aussie named Nathalie who’s boyfriend (the love of her life) broke up with her thru a Viber text yesterday. A giant group of us went to dinner, then spent the rest of the evening drinking in the pubs watching live Irish music and dancing, and were up bright and early the next day on a ferry to Aran Islands.

Thursday was one of those days where I kept reminding myself to really just be present and appreciate what a good day I was having. We rode bikes all afternoon around the coast through stone walled farmland, past red haired, freckled children and old men with caps and wellies, passing by the remains of castles and churches, and then stopped by a pretty thatched cafe for the best Irish soda bread, Guinness stew, and Guinness chocolate cake in Ireland. Yumm!! When the other girls decided they were tired and would take the bus back, Courtney and I headed up to the cliffs. Though slightly less of a stunner it was just as impressive as Moher, seemed just as high yet there was no barriers and I was petrified to go near the edge like some of the other tourists were. (Snapping a great photo on your way off the side of a cliff just doesn’t really seem worth it to me.)

The pub crawl later that evening was good craic. I enjoyed an Irish coffee, a shot of mini Guinness, and even rode a mechanical bull, but after the third non-Irish bar, I decided some of us should break away and mingle with the indigenous folks. We headed for The Quays and had a good olde time for ourselves with the locals there in Galway, and then again last night back in Dublin before saying goodbye to my Aussie mates and promising to Facebook.

I showed up for yoga this morning to meet the guru’s son, Manju Jois, and for some hair of the downward dog! My practice was actually quite good despite my three day bender and though I pledged to be as healthy as one can be in Dublin the rest of the trip, I just had to make one last stop at the Guinness Storehouse before Courtney left for London.

It’s an impressive place and definitely should be at the top of the list when visiting Dublin. They walk you through the whole life cycle of your pint, the history of Arthur Guinness- a very politically influential man in Dublin, there’s a great display of their genius ad campaigns, and they teach you how to pour a perfect pint- it’s just 5 easy steps, and it should take 119.5 seconds to do it right! There’s also an unbeatable view of the city from the top floor and guess what? They serve you more Guinness!

After jotting down my London recommendations and saying goodbye to my new Canadian besty, I attempted to take the train home to Stillorgan. My new home is a four star property in an upscale part of town that may as well be in another city. It’s close to yoga, but apparently not to the metro stop so I enjoyed a gentle forty minute stroll from the station. One of the twelve people I asked for directions along the way actually asked if I was Canadian, so I think Courtney’s polite friendly demeanor rubbed off on me! Good craic, eh!

So far I am absolutely in love with Ireland! I always knew I would love it here. Besides the people, the pubs and that gift of gab that’s so fun to listen to, those books I read as a kid about magical places with castles and giant cliffs, and little villages with thatched roof cottages, I’m convinced they were all writing about Ireland!

XOXO

On Jul 27, 2012, at 7:28:08 PM EST Pamela wrote:
A Proper Holiday

Sadly, this is my last email. My holiday is winding down! Ireland reigned as favorite, and I’ll have to come back because I didn’t get to see all of it, but think I got a respectable dose…

Sunday was divine, the morning was spent practicing yoga, meditating, and talking with Manju. I get the sense he is sort of the black sheep of the Jois family; his pops, the guru Sri Pattabhi, passed the torch along to Sharath the grandson, seemingly bypassing the natural heir. I swear he smacked of alcohol several mornings (either that or it was me), his teeth were way too big for that little face, and oh he was one little Indian, I think he came up to my shoulders, and obviously I’m a midget, but I loved him! He was hysterical and I’m pretty sure I was his favorite student (or just terrible at yoga) because he adjusted me in almost every posture. I have bruises up and down my arms and legs to prove it. While trying to work my arms through my legs while bound in lotus pose, grab my chin and roll around in five turns (Garbapindasana) he joked, “Are you extremely comfitable? Ehehehe”. “Yes, I feel like I’m in a vice grip,” “Ohh that one is next, Ehehehe.” He actually lives in Encinitas, so I can go visit him in September when he and the family are back from their world tour. After practice this darling, sweet girl that looked like a skinny, blonde Snooki (Jersey Shore taking over the world), mentioned that all the girls would be going for coffee across the way. I learned that Trina, had once been to San Diego, and wanted to move there but had popped out a now 13 year old baby girl shortly after visiting, and hadn’t been back since, but may visit for the Ashtanga Confluence in March. While reporting of the young girls on the bus the night before with the hideously SHORT! hemlines, cleavage out, super high heels on I realized I might be talking to the mother of one, if not her former self, and realized I should shut up! (Do girls now dress like this in America? I swear they were all 12 with two inches of the wrong color foundation on, and headed out to the disco in underclothes!)

That afternoon we chanted the Vedas – Maa vid vishal vihaihi. Om shanti shanti shanti – which means “May peace physical, mental, and spiritual be on us forever. Om peace, peace, peace!” Even though Manju’s eyes looked to be rolling in back of his head, there’s no need to be scared of Sanscrit chanting, it’s all very pure and beautiful!

Continuing my spiritual pursuit, I headed to the original St. Patrick’s Cathedral for Evensong. It was nearly as impressive as Westminster Abbey, and the choir from Belfast nearly made me well up, but after a half hour I was a bit bored and then I had to sit it through for another hour. On my way out of town I noticed two men in top hats, and decided to stop in for oysters and wine at The Shelbourne. As I sipped my 575 ml Rose and chatted with some tourists from Miami, I spied a dapper dandy in the Godfather booth, who turned out to be Dublin’s own, Gabriel Byrne. Now despite the fact that he’s older than my Pop’s, he’s actually quite fetching as well as quite famous, so naturally I made a fool of myself on my way out by waving (he waved back) and then walking into the locked door of the ladies loo (he laughed). Always the dork, I am! Speaking of my Pops, I must admit he is ahead of the curve with his wine production this year. I had though White Zin was passé but apparently Rose is all the rage in the UK!

Monday turned out to be a balmy 20C and it was perfect because I’d headed out to beachfront Killiney and Dalkey after yoga. I’d already decided I could live in Ireland and this confirmed it. There’s a reason Bono, The Edge and Van Morrison live here, it’s spectacular! The views are on par with anything in La Jolla, the village is chockfull of good restaurants, natural food stores, and pubs, and it’s Ireland! You can live in a castle or at least have the remnants of one on your property!

I spent some time during the next few days with a hilarious British journalist named Dave. I’d met him in a bar near my first yucky hotel by the bus station, before I’d left for Galway, and we’d decided he’d show me around a bit this week. We dined at the finest sushi joint on the Liffey, shared Guinness pints at the smallest bar in Ireland, took in some good views and bad food at the summit of Howth, and checked out some castles and summer fun being had in Malahide. Dave worked at 4 pm though (he had to put the paper “to bed”) so I was mostly alone in the evening, which was fine after the early morning yoga and subsequent mid-day pint drinking. The weather cooperated for my last week too, except of course Tuesday when I trekked out to see Madonna and it was pounding down rain. Never one to disappoint, the lady put on a great show! Say what you want about her, Madonna at 153 years old flashing her booty will still be cool with me!

I’ll wrap up with a few lessons learned this past month:

  • Avoid driving yourself around countries that drive on the wrong side of the road.
  • Irish soda bread with copious amounts of butter, and wine is a wonderful dinner.
  • Traveling alone is fantastic in that the world is at your whim. You can run around all day, or lie in and do absolutely nothing all day.
  • That said, breaking bread is just not the same without the company of loved ones. Avoid dinner unaccompanied, any other meal is acceptable but always bring a book (especially Game of Thrones because people will stop to talk to you about it), and always sit at the bar.
  • If you must “get the hell out of dodge” on short notice, and fly solo than you can’t be shy! Even three day mates or three hour mates are great. (I met an adorable couple at Madonna that have warmly welcomed me back to stay with them in Cork whenever I’d like. Though I got the sense they are probably swingers, LOL!)
  • For some reason no one knows their left from their right here, if they’re motioning left, they will usually be telling you to go right. I think they’re all secretly confused by driving on the left side of the road as well. They even have signs written on the streets for poor pedestrians to Look Right and not get mowed down. I still got into the wrong side of the car up until yesterday afternoon.
  • Halve whatever length of time you’re quoted especially if asking whether something is walkable as they will always say no.
  • Be especially liberal with Dublin time 7:30 may mean 9:00.
  • Unless you’re in a super touristy spot there’s a refreshing lack of chain restaurants outside the US, except for Starbucks, and with free wifi, washrooms and cawfee, you won’t hear me complain!
  • Nothing unusual about three scoops of mashed potatoes and half a baked potato on the side.
  • No one actually speaks Celtic, but it’s written on every single sign.
  • The trick to the sink is to turn on both faucets medium blast and maneuver deftly from the icy cold right to scorching hot left to wash your face.

I can now tick England, Scotland and Ireland off the bucket list but I will return!!

Loved sharing my little adventures with you! Hope to break some bread soon!

XOXO

Pamela Day Designs - Ireland

Pamela Day Designs - Ireland

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