My first taste of Ireland actually started out a lot like a Mastercard commercial. We landed in Dublin, and went to Eurocar to get our rental car: A tin can Chevy car, $150. The extra hidden charge for picking up at the airport $30. Taxes, $25. The GPS navigation system that ended up costing as much as the car rental, which ensured a peaceful, no arguing over directions, week together: PRICELESS.
And thus our journey began. It was dark as we left the airport, with Brandon sitting on the left, stick shifting on the left, drving on the left, in the rain, with no street lamps, through the narrow pot-hole ridden streets. We made it to Glendalough alive! A whooping town of 250. Turns out its a pretty hot little spot, and after being turned away four times, God provided in the form of a great place. In fact, it was a small apartment bigger than our old one at the Beach House.


The 12th sticks out cause that morning was the first time I had eggs in two months. It was divine. Fresh fruit all cut up into bit size pieces just the way mom makes it. Hot chocolate. Bran had a traditional Irish breakfast, flanked with three types of sausage. We rolled oursleves outside town to check out Charles Fort, a very old, and still very in tact, star shaped fort. The nice old Irish man that worked there gave us an unexpected history lesson, lasting about 30 minutes. When we turned to leave, we both laughed realizing we each only got about 40% of what he had just said in his thick Irish accent.
Polish. I'll bet you can think of at least one polish joke. Well, let me tell you a story. So, we drove out to an Island off the Southern coast, called Valentia. We were getting a tour of a potential hostel. The man showed us the room, then the bathroom. He proceeded to show us a switch we are suppose to flip to get hot water for the shower. He then explained, "This switch is actually backwards, when the light comes on, that means the radiator is off. It's cause two Polish men in stalled it." He said it so matter of fact, I just chuckled to myself.Turns out those jokes are based on fact, not fiction.

After the creepy hostel on Valentia Island, we splurged and did a B and B. The place was great, overlooking the ocean. Our host was friendly, after we got over her odd comment, "you need a room?" but why, it's November, who takes holiday in November?" I just thought, "us. And other people who can't afford the peak prices or want to deal with peak wall to wall tourists, ok lady!" She was the over the top friendly hostess.I couldn't help but stare at her outlined red lipstick, you know, the huge lined lips that women think makes their lips look fuller (since we women loose collagen as we age) but actually just looks like you drew outside the lines of your mouth. The point is, she had an extensive breakfast menu, and I asked her about the waffles and fruit. She said, "oh yes, wonderful. They are made from potatoes." I even asked if she had syrup, and with an affirmative, was excited for my normal, delicious, am waffles. Wrong. What was on my plate that morning was a french fri in the shape of a waffle One bite affirmed it. Instead of syrup on my warm french fri waffle, I used ketchup. So, I enjoyed a nice, traditional waffle, aka greasy french fries, for breakfast. Brandon couldn't help but laugh at me, since he had warned be the night before.

A wonderful day in Clifden, in county Connemara, the 15th. We drove around exploring the area all morning. We found a tropical beach, (including white sands and clear blue water), swamp lands all along the coast, multiple connected lakes, a hidden Abby, and a national park. Even though the ranger was out, the trails were open, and we went off to explore Diamond Head. I have never hiked a trail like it before. Since there is so much rock just lying around, they used it to make the trail. There were stone steps that led all the way to the top. I stopped counting when I came to the third "top" of the mountain, or so I thought, and we just kept getting higher and higher. I just kept saying to myself, "buns of steel, thighs of steel" to keep myself going.Turns out, when you go up that high, you get to see lots of real cool stuff.

Our last night in Ireland was spent in the small town of Doolin. I knew it had to be a great place, being in the title of one of my favorite Eagles songs. We stayed at a great hostel, and that night made our way into a local pub. Some delicious beef stew, plenty of Guinness, and live music made the night great. There was a banjo, guitar, violin, accordion, and another violin player. Funny how they put away quite a bit of beer, and yet still managed to nimbly play their instruments. Great songs that are so upbeat and lively you don't notice your tapping your feet and so is everyone around you. And, the real melancholy, remember-the potato-famine, I want to cry, melodies too. The night was almost perfect, minus the drunk teenage tourists who had mistaken the quiet, small town pub for a sorority party. Really steams me.

I have to admit, there didn't seem to be nearly as many hiccups or awkward moments in Ireland. I would like attribute that to getting a bit more travel savvy, but reality is everything is in English, and thus life was easy once again. I will admit, Ireland is everything you conjure up in your head: rolling green hills, lots of rock, numerous sheep and cows, rugged coastline,friendly people, tons of pubs, and good breakfast. A few things I didn't know or realize:
~The roads are tiny. If they happen to be two lanes, they are both so small, you have to quickly brake and hug the bushes when another car comes towards you. When it is just one twisting, rolling, lane-of-death- you have to slam on the breaks, go into the bushes and wait for the other car to pass.
~You can spot an Irish driver cause they wave at you. You know, the hand flicker while still holding the steering wheel, everyone does it.
~They love talk radio. No music can be found before 11 am. And they great part is, it's all regular, everyday stuff, and the same regular everyday stuff, everyday.
~There really are pubs everywhere, but what you don't know is that they are not just frequented at night. Yes, they come in for a drink before work starts.
~There really is an abundance of rock. So much so, that all fences are made of it. That's also why Ireland looks so rocky and craggy, there are tons of fences keeping in livestock. Which subsequently means there are really no trees at all.

Dont worry. Today was our first day in Ciaro, and wow. I will post some comments soon, promise.