It was nighttime when I arrived in Dublin, and while the layer of darkness gave the city a romantic, mysterious feel, it did nothing to disguise the stench of stale beer and vomit that seemed to envelope me like a noxious cloud. It was clear to me even from the beginning, everyone in Dublin was pissed.
Apologies for the gothic novel-esque opening to this entry but it was the nicest way I could describe the piss-poor first impression I received of Ireland's capital. I arrived on what I soon discovered was the biggest night out in Dublin after St Paddy's Day. I had arrived smack-bang in the middle of the Six Nations tournament and Ireland was playing Wales that night at Croke Park. The game was finished by the time I landed, but the drunken revelry was only just beginning. It seemed as though every Irishman, Welshman and, well, basically anyone who had the ability to raise a glass to their lips was either drunk or vomiting into a gutter on the streets of the Temple Bar.
It may sound as though I am exaggerating, but let me assure you that it was easy for me to see that apart from my Airport Shuttle driver, I was the only sober person in Dublin (although from the way the driver was heavily leaning on the wheel, I suspected he had had a quiet tipple before his shift began.)
I gingerly weaved my way through the chanting crowds and stepped over slumped bodies, successfully arriving at my hostel. My hostel was right above the most popular pub in the Temple Bar, but I was so relieved to be out of the cold that this didn't bother me. Nor was I bothered by the hostel receptionist's glassy gaze as he booked me in. At this point I was just grateful that he was lucid enough to give me the right room key. I went straight to bed that night and when I woke up I got a much better introduction to Ireland.
Dublin was okay, but to me, it was just another city. Ireland really became interesting when I left the capital. I spent a few days there before starting a Paddywagon 10 Day All-Ireland tour. Now, before you hunch your shoulders and start a full-body cringe, let me assure you that this wasn't like a Contiki tour. It was a small tour and a small bus and they actually let you get off the bus and look at sights rather than keep you trapped on the coach like Contiki do, with your face pressed longingly against the window. The tour took me into Northern Ireland, where I stayed in Derry and Belfast and then down along the coastlines, seeing places like Galway, County Kerry, Killarney and Cork. It was a great tour but instead of detailing everything, I thought I would utilise my old friend the dot point and summarise the highlights of my travels through Ireland.
HIGHLIGHTS
- Seeing the amazing Giant's Causeway and basically just staring open-mouthed in wonder at every coastline. Everything is so dramatically beautiful that you often can't believe your eyes and do what I did, which was keep saying, 'No, no, THIS cliff is the most beautiful so far. Much better than that last cliff.' 'This lushly green hill with the sheep and the waterfall is stunning, oh yes, far superior to that previous lush, green hill that also had sheep and a waterfall.'
- Learning about the 'Troubles' in Northern Ireland. I went on a walking tour of Derry and that was excellent, as I saw the murals to commemorate Bloody Sunday and saw the locked fence that the Protestants still choose to live within. I also took a Black Taxi tour of Belfast. These cab drivers take you to the Catholic and Protestant areas and you see more murals and they tell you about the Troubles and what life was like before the Good Friday agreement and still is like in Belfast. I was shocked by how limited my knowledge was of the situation. I had no idea that there are still gates that are locked each night to stop any violence. In Belfast, even though Protestants and Catholics catch the same bus they have to use different bus stops. If they were waiting in the same spots, then that is when fights break out.
- Trying a Guiness for the first time in a pub in Derry, while listening to traditional Irish music. Guiness - not so good, music - very good. In fact, I have come to like Irish music so much (and I don't mean The Corrs) that I used to go into the souvenir shops and listen to 'Lord of the Dance' again and again.
- Seeing another great set of cliffs, the Cliffs of Moher. They were amazing, but once again, I was buffeted by hail as I edged my way along the clifftops. Sightseeing is dangerous stuff.
- Drinking a punch that Eric the Busdriver made in a tiny town called Cong. He put god knows what in there, but we all drank it and then stumbled the 30 minutes into town so that we could go to the one pub in Cong. True to form, I rolled my ankle AGAIN (yes, I am into double digits now) and a couple of girls were helping me get back, but we lost our way and we were so drunk that we figured it would be easier to go to the pub then go back to our accomodation. The punch was making my ankle feel like it could take on the world and so we headed to the pub. Glad we did, as there was more Irish music on offer and the locals let us play some of their instruments.
- Spending St Patrick's Day in Killarney. Killarney was a cool little town and a great location for St Paddy's. We went out the night before and so we were a little rough for the actual day. The group got kitted out in our green tops, temporary tattoos and, in my case, a green flashing headband! We spent the morning on a horse and carriage ride around Killarney National Park and then we toured the Ring of Kerry. We made it back to the town for the afternoon parade, which wasn't that exciting, more like a low key Moomba parade, complete with Girl Guides and a local Karate club! That night we went back out on the town, still proudly decked out in our full St Paddy's regalia. This actually meant we were the only people in Killarney who were wearing green, but we had had so many Jagerbombs that night that we didn't really care. I also tried a Carbomb that night, a half shot of Jameson and a half shot of Bailey's dropped in a half pint of Guiness. Yes, it was as filthy as it sounds.
There were few lowlights on this tour, except for my usual rolled ankle troubles and my annoyance with this bogan from Albury called Sherryn, who unknowingly amused me with her tales of a bogan that she had met on her Scotland tour. Unfortunately, as everyone else was a stranger, I had no one to chuckle with about the irony of Sherryn's rants about this bogan. Had to smirk to myself with that one.
