May 2008

Ireland:

Let's start this one off with a map, too. Remember, it's interactive, so have yourself some fun.

Cue my arrival in Dublin. First off, the airport is immense. I walked forever in a circle to arrive at customs, only to wait in line with the other Non-EU members. When I finally made it to the important guy who decides whether or not I should be allowed into his country, I was greeted warmly. The man asked me if I was going visit family. I explained to him that all of my family was, in fact, French. So not quite. He gave me a long look of disbelief over a pair of glasses and through that probably bullet proof glass. He kindly told me that I must have family here and that if I claimed I didn't it was only because I hadn't discovered them yet. He then stamped my passport, handed it back to me and wished me a good trip and much luck in finding my family.

My first stop in Dublin was… the bus station. I was on my way to Cork where my first host was located. Four hours on a bus showed me scenery that looked much like Louisiana: green, flat, and full of fields. well, flat except for a bit in the distance.

Cork wasn't terribly special. It was a city and I didn't take off on this trip to be in cities constantly. So I wandered around a bit, mainly looking for a grocery store which seemed to be nearly impossible to find (as a lady I later met said, "The Irish are always very eager to be helpful, to give you directions, however, the directions are rarely correct.") My host picked me up, we went home where two other girls he was hosting from Sweden had made supper. I offered my bottle of wine and we had a nice leisurely time of it. I was exhausted and needed an early start the next morning, so I decided to stay in that night. We watched movies projected onto their wall… once it got dark, that is. I laid my head down, went to bed and then went on my way in the morning.

Bantry!

An itty bitty town that I only knew existed because David, that Irish friend of mine, had done a cycling tour along the Southwest and remembered that town. So I went. It was a quaint, adorable little town. Nothing incredibly special, but look at that sky!

In fact, I just ate lunch there and then left again, this time up to Killarney. Now Killarney was lovely. I didn't find anyone to host me, but did manage to find the last bed in a hostel that was quite nice. I went out walking for a bit that evening, sat along a river, hung out in the National Park.

I misjudged when the sun was setting and came back inside way earlier than necessary to rummage around in the "free food" section of the kitchen. I found some noodles and began to cook them, with the intent of adding some raisins and nuts, sort of a trail mix pasta. This kitchen is bustling with movement right about now in all kinds of languages. I heard someone say that they were French Canadian, so, being as obsessed with culture as I am, I turned around and introduced myself, saying that I was in fact going to Québec and had been in Nova Scotia and all that. And that I LOVE the québecois accent. During this discussion, a Londoner hears that I am from Louisiana and starts singing a Cajun song, much to my surprise. He then offers both me and Vanessa a bowl of chili, which I accepted immediately, putting my free noodles aside. Our group grows larger as the conversation spreads to include more and more people. At the end I find myself surrounded by Patrick, a busker from London who has actually lived in Lille; Vanessa, the French Canadian who moved to Dublin to speak English and get a job; Dan, a South African who is taking some time off from school to run around a bit; and Ted, from Wisconsin, but has been travelling for the past 11 months. We chat about everything, say where we've been and where we're headed. We share plans for the next day and then decide to meet up for breakfast. This decision was crucial, because over breakfast that next morning we all managed to convince ourselves to stay another night.

That being done, we grabbed our stuff and began to make our way to the castle that hangs out in the national park there. We had been joking the night before about swimming from near the castle to one of the outer islands. Mind you, we were saying this after what was apparently an unseasonably warm day. That day we were not so lucky. Not only was it kind of chilly, but windy as well. We bundled up, still checking that we had all brought some sort of swimming gear, and left. During our walk there, we realize just how cold it is. Windy, slightly rainy, but definitely chilly. We make it to the castle, no problem… and this is a special castle.

Once again, I did not pay to go in, but I'm okay with that because if you look at the outside, you will see what is the castle from MONTY PYTHON! That's right, this is the 'your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries' castle. Pretty darn cool, neh? After hanging around the castle, we continued our walk down to Library Point.

There, we saw a part that led down to the water, so we followed it.

And stripped down to our swimming clothes and, well, got in. It was a terrible place, all rocky. Plus, the water was incredibly cold; we all just barely let our feet touch. Then the guys went in, and Vanessa and I couldn't be outdone, so we followed.

One quick countdown later and I had dunked my head into said freezing water and came back up even more quickly. (my crazy mess of hair was hardly even wet after being thoroughly dunked. Harumph.)

TRIUMPHANT!

As we were extracting ourselves from the water, attempting to navigate rocks with numbed feet, a boat FULL of tourists passed by a bit in the distance. The captain let out a nice little toot on the horn to let us know that they saw us. And that everyone and their mother had their cameras out in our direction. We found this to be very, very funny and waved back, taking pictures of our own.

Soggily, we headed back to the hostel, having an intense discussion about fate. I helped with dinner preparation and Indian food combined with an actual dessert was quite the pleasant change from the normal grocery store runs that had been dictating my menu for one. More stories came out that night, some card tricks and card games, a run into town to see Patrick play for a bit, then bed.

This next day is my bus day extraordinaire. I caught the first bus out to Galway, trying to get in touch with Jane to tell her that my plans had changed if she would prefer to meet up in Limerick. But as I am a numerically incapable person, I managed to send texts to a phantom person that wasn't Jane. I went ahead and followed through with the original plan and we luckily found each other in Galway without a hitch. We wandered around for a bit and then proceeded to get on a bus an hour later to Dublin. Then we changed there to get to Kilkenny where we were staying for the next two nights. This transit time was about 4 hours to Galway, then 4 hours to Dublin, then 2 hours to Kilkenny. However, it was well worth it as we were picked up by a David and his family. They gave us tea and breakfasts and dinners and beds and puppies and a fireplace. This all added a bit more confusion to my accent, which by now had completely deteriorated into lord knows what. So much so that David looked at me and asked me what happened. Jane, fortunately, providing a stable, american accent for me to latch onto.

my new little brother. Dane, you had better be this cute the next time I see you.

This is the reason no one had gotten any sleep when we arrived.

Kilkenny itself was a cute town, complete with its own castle.

We saw a hurling match.

And ate fish and chips. And got laughed at by the family as a whole because we didn't understand David's dad's accent. For me, it was a really nice break in between all of my travellingness, to be able to sit down at a table with a fancy schmancy meal. By fancy schmancy I just mean a meal prepared by someone else. Yum. David's family is an incredibly musical family. Between the guitars and the voices, it is kind of ridiculous. (In fact his sister just got accepted into the top music school in the country. Congrats Anna!) One evening they got out two guitars and sort of passed them around a bit and sang when they felt like it. Beautiful. Jane and I made fudge during the mini concert. Well, mainly Jane, anyway. It was a token of our gratitude and a testament to the hard work that we had to do to find chocolate chips in that country. It was well received.

Next morning and it was off to Dublin! Note this would be the third time at the Dublin bus station for me. We were actually on the same bus as Anna who goes to piano lessons in Dublin every Saturday. She had some time before her lesson and brought us to our first stop of the day: Trinity College.

Here we have the book of Kells. To sum it up, it is a really, really old book with beautiful illuminations. It is also housed where one of the most fantastic libraries I have ever seen is found. Just look.

from this angle, it looked like Hendrix a bit

Dublin involved a LOT of walking and a quick freak out trying to find beds for that evening because we arrived a day earlier than expected. This meant writing down addresses of hostels and running around Dublin asking for empty beds. Once that was secured, we walked around some more.

Ms Malone

They had a boat bench!

Fish and chips again. Oh yeah, and Paul DeCuir.

That's right, one of those long lost cousins I didn't really know I had met up with me in Dublin. We just happened to be there at the same time, which is utterly ridiculous. So we had ourselves a pint of Guinness and then parted. Only to run into each in the airport later after not having slept at ALL. He was headed to Prague and I, back home. CRAZY.

Anyway, I took a late bus (Dublin station count number 4) that evening to Galway, leaving Jane on her own to catch her flight back to Espana. I had booked a hostel beforehand and just went in ready to crash. I was completely surrounded by tons of what seemed to be French high schoolers on a field trip. That combined with the FREE internet gave me a bit of motivation to wait until 10 to go to bed. I got to stash my baggage at the hostel early the next morning and found myself on yet another bus, this time out to Doolin. Now, the story here is a bit odd. You see, senior year, John and I were in a Creative Writing class at Lafayette High. One of the story topics that we were assigned was based off of a photograph and John's photograph was of Doolin. We ended up combining our stories at some point in time and then made a collection of Doolin stories. So when I found out that Doolin was an actual town in Ireland, I felt that a pilgrimage was necessary. Therefore, I went to Doolin.

Because of the way that the bus times worked out, I stayed there for about an hour, just enough time to buy a sandwich from the Deli and write two postcards that may or may not have reached their destinations as of now. It was a lot of time on a bus,

sustained by homemade trail mix

but not too bad, because I did get to spend some more time in Galway, as is seen by these photos. My hostel let me store my stuff until really late that evening so I was able to go and listen to music around the city.

I decided to see the church where Christopher Columbus supposedly prayed before setting forth unto the New World. Turns out that there was something very official looking going on, so I asked someone what it was. They handed me the evening's program… a performance by a Galway choir and the men's choir of Brittany. Now, quick geography lesson. Brittany is a region in Western France, closest to England. They are blessed with a very unique culture as well, including Breton, their own language. The majority of their songs where sung in Breton. Similarly, the choir from Galway sang a lot in Irish. These two facts put together mean that while I should have understood everything around me, being able to understand French and English and all, but as they were singing in completely other languages, I was lost most of the time. But it was beautiful—so beautiful. Especially when the two groups exchanged national anthems. Leaving one form of music, I went out to find another. My ears were very, very happy at a nearby pub where traditional music was just overflowing. I stayed there all foot tapping until I had to go on over to the bus station for my midnight bus to Dublin.

Midnight buses wouldn't be so bothersome if they would actually turn out the lights so that you could sleep. Having slept or not, I ended up at the Dublin airport at nearly 3:40 in the morning, early enough for my 7:30 flight, but too early to actually checking. That meant quality time with me and the airport floor in an attempt at sleeping. I ended up just eating some nutella and bread to bring the weight of my suitcase down (increasing my weight in the process, most assuredly). After check in, I walked the giant circle that is Dublin Airport and down into the Ryan Air portion of it. I looked around for an empty seat to crash again and in the process met up with Paul again. He left for Prague and I kept an eye out for David, who was to be on the same flight back. A trip home, no big hiccups besides a late train and therefore two unexpected transfers. We actually felt pretty accomplished, knowing that we understood the problems with the trains via the intercoms…something that would have been incomprehensible and overwhelming a few months ago.

With an English accent that felt more normal, I came back home EXHAUSTED and smack dab into finals. So I apologize for the lack of communication in general. This whole exams, packing up your life, and people leaving thing is taking up some time.

I have two exams left and a hellish paper. What does this all mean? Updating is my present to myself... here is installment number one. Expect others as I finish pages of this icky experimental phonetics paper.

And so we arrive to the long awaited travelling part. Once again. When I last left you, I was ready to be whisked away to Scotland and Ireland for two weeks of alone time travelling. The alone part wasn't all that bad; for those of you who know me, y'all know that big groups aren't exactly my thing. It was really good to just take a break from Lille and hop on a flight over that English channel. I'll do my best to sum up here, because the stories are honestly too numerous to just list out here.

A handy dandy map to help you out.

Scotland:
I started out in Glasgow that first evening, but I never would have known that it was an English speaking country, not with the accent they had. I was struggling to understand everyone… even the nice old man at customs who called me 'love' and wished me a good trip. I ended up nodding often and smiling. I walked around Glasgow for most of the day, which is nothing special, then I met up with Naiara, my host. She's originally from the Basque country and is studying in Glasgow. We chatted about language a lot as the Basque language is one of those very unique things that no one really understands. She made me a Spanish omlette (think potatoes and onions in egg…) and wrapped the left-overs up for me for the next day, when a bus ride took me up to Oban.

The buses were my own tour buses, just look at the scenery

Oban is a beautiful town situated on the coast, making it prime summer time visiting.

Now, it wasn't quite summer, but I had managed to catch some beautifully sunny, if chilly, weather. I got off the bus and went directly to the tourism office to check my mail at one of the most expensive internet places I have ever been. It was a necessary evil, however, because my host Leo had yet to send me his contact info and here I was, in his town, looking for him. Turns out he never got my mail asking him for where and when we could meet up. Instead, I went to the front desk of the tourist info centre and asked for the WWII lookout tower nearby. The nice lady explained that there were two in the area, one to the north and one to the south, but that I shouldn't go to the one in the north because it is actually a private residence. That's when I piped up and said that it was the one I was looking for. The only real reason I came to Oban was to stay with Leo in his WWII lookout tower. I trekked on up there, stopping occasionally to read my book or admire the view. I also made a pit stop to buy a bottle of wine as a housewarming sort of thing.

I want this bench to be my own.

This happened to be the first place i have ever been carded… and I had to use my passport. I found Leo fooling around in his veggie oil run van, sorting out parts that he needed as a mechanic.

Leo's abode

and the view

We made vegetarian haggis and turnips and potatoes that evening and talked about everything imaginable. We compared Carnavals from different areas, told of music adventures, I got to hear about his great 6 month hitching from one side of Canada to the other. It was fantastic. The next morning I was out of Oban and on my way to Portree, Isle of Skye.

I went through the Highlands of Scotland in order to get there and that is, I think, the most breathtaking scenery I have ever witnessed. Take mountains still topped with snow, cover the lower half with forests and shove them up against lakes. There you have the Highlands in a nutshell. I stopped taking pictures because they just could even begin to capture what I saw. But here's an attempt quand même.

The Isle of Skye is a lovely place, connected to Scotland by the Kyle Bridge.

Portree looked like a town out of a postcard.

This is what my hostel saw every morning,

I grabbed a hostel there and treated myself to a meal in a restaurant, instead of the usual grocery store run. Cue the Cullen Skink. This is a soup of potatoes, cream and fish. And it is glorious. I had a little table for one, got my book out and digested this incredible soup on the bay. I decided to go ahead and splurge for a dessert. Worth it. All of it. A wonderful meal, followed by an early bedtime. That is just one of the facets of the gloriousness of travelling alone; no one to judge you when your bedtime is suddenly nine thirty.

Next on my list was a couchsurfer who lives in Lower Milovaig. I caught an early ride out to Dunvegan and saw the castle.

Paid more than I should have considering how little time I actually spent there, but I did get to see this flag that the family claims was given to them by fairies and has been the reason they have won so many battles. It was in tatters, but still interesting all the same. After getting bread and directions to my next stop, I found myself surrounded by scenery such as this:

Turns out that there is one street that goes to Lower Milovaig. In fact, there is only one street. This street just changes names to let you know how far you need to go. And Lower Milovaig is as far as you can go. I arrive at this animal sanctuary guest house and knock on the window, asking for Rima, the lady who was to host me. Instead of meeting her, I was met with a host of confused faces. Rima was in London at the time and had neglected to mention to her husband, mother in law, and new volunteer that they might be having someone join them. Luckily, they were up to taking care of me. Once we had settled that I was in fact able to sleep there, I took off on a leisurely stroll out to Neis point. All the way out on the Western part of Isle of Skye. I start walking and see nothing but sheepscattered beautiful landscape.

I am literally the only person on the road, maneuvering through these wooly beasts as they could care less that a road even exists. The walk is longer than expected, about two hours, but I was taking my time. About an hour and a half into it, it kind of starts to sprinkle. Nothing terrible, really. I keep on walking, passing several houses. Nearly at the end of this line of houses, the sprinkle has turned to rain. Three minutes later, it was snow, coming at me sideways. I realize that I have no where to go really and debate knocking on doors and asking for shelter. So, with one side of me completely drenched from this freak, one direction snow storm, I knock on the door of the last house. Aaaaannnnddd there's no answer. The other houses are quite a ways away now, so I walk around the back of this one and use the wall as a barrier until things calm down a bit. And they do, lucky me. Ten minutes afterwards, I was back on that road, dripping, heading onward to see a lighthouse. I finally made it and it was worth it. An insane number of stairs later (in the brightest sun, drying the same side that had suffered so in the storm) and this lighthouse shows up out of no where. What a view!

I made it!!!

I hung out there for a bit, experimenting with the timer on my camera and recovering in general from my trek out there. After a while, though, the slightly greying clouds and the hour convinced me to make my way back home. I leisurely started the walk back, pausing to take pictures of scenery that I had neglected due to extreme weather circumstances and marveling at the amount of people that managed to only come out all this way now that it was sunny.

At one point in time a car that was passing me going the same direction slowed down. The two guys mentioned that they saw me walking when they went to see the lighthouse and that I was apparently still walking. I must have looked pretty lonely amongst the sheep, so they gave me a lift on back. From the Netherlands, they had been living in Scotland for a few years now. I actually saw them the next day in Portree again… to which they requested the next time I see them I have to buy them a drink. Back to Milovaig, however.

Where I stayed is this animal sanctuary.

The only person that is there full time is the volunteer… in this case Alice, who had started the day before I got there. The place is surrounded by chickens, pigs, cats, goats, and sheep. One ewe was with lamb, so I helped build the shelter for her. That's why Rima's mother-in-law was there--to help in case the lamb was born and Rima wasn't there. The two of us got along really well. I think she wanted someone to mother, but as Alice is a vegan with a wheat allergy, she was left to mothering me. Porridge, cookies, tea, dinner, breakfast. And we spent the evening all reading by the wood stove, then early to bed again. This time I think it might have even been before nine. But we were on a farm of sorts, so don't judge.

In the morning, the lovely people who had stayed in the guesthouse

offered to bring me into town with them and they ended up giving me a ride off the island whereupon I set our for Inverness! Now in Inverness I did NOT go to Loch Ness, but I found the town to be absolutely beautiful. My favorite part were these little islands in the River Ness that have been connected with a set of bridges and set up into the nicest little park with fun benches everywhere in the best spots imaginable. This park ranks high on my list of parks. Fantastic.

I wasn't in Inverness long at all and stayed in a hostel (where my room was filled with Germans… something of a trend throughout the trip, actually.) Little bit of internet, little bit of bread and nutella and a lot of tea and then I caught a bus to Aberdeen. I was about to get on a bus when I looked at the schedule and saw buses to Aberdeen with a C by them. Reading further, I saw that this was to inform me that this bus used a coastal route to get to Aberdeen. Now I like water, and I figured that if I was going to pay for a bus I might as well get my money's worth, so I chose a later bus. As I am buying the ticket from the driver, he says, "You do realize that this is the longest way to Aberdeen, right? " "Yes." "No, I mean it is the longest possible way to get to Aberdeen." "Okay." "… Okay then."

It was a long ride. Somewhere near five hours. We changed drivers three full times. But I was along the coast…even passed through Cullen, the town where my new favorite soup originated. Pulled into Aberdeen

and I amused myself until my host contacted me. Enter Anita, or Neets rather. Her bike hasn't had a seat for months. I had tea at her friends house as we set up an assembly line to stuff envelopes for her work. I talked with a French Canadian who was sewing juggling balls. They had transformed their yard into a beautiful garden, with bells in the trees and work gloves on the clothesline. While her roommate and I made bean burritos, Neets made a dress from a sheet. The we went out for music which was pretty awesome. If i hadn't lost the paper, I'd tell you who was playing. Then home again, home again, to one of the more comfy mattresses of my trip.

When I had asked John what I should see in Scotland, he told me to go to Dunotter castle. So I did. The castle was closed when I got there, and when it was opened an hour and a half, I deemed it too expensive. So I bought ice cream and postcards instead. No regrets.

An uneventful return to Aberdeen, lunch in a bar with really good burgers that are also really cheap. Watched whatever soccer game that was on. I thought it only appropriate to then walk off all of that french fry burgerness, so I went on over to the beach, and then walked back around town a bit, and eventually back to Neets, exhausted. Sleep and then leave her house before dawn to catch the airport bus and a plane to Dublin. And there you have it, Scotland. An overload of photos... but it was an overload of scenery.

I think this country may have stolen my heart.