Ok friends and family, I know I wasn't in Jamica, glitch in the system or something, its fixed now. So much to talk about and so little time. Lets start with a couple of days ago. I took the bus from Listowel to Tralee, men pay attention to this name, it is the land of extremely attractive Irish women. From Tralee I went to Dingle, through Conner's/Connor's pass. Talk about a beautiful country. I met a great old couple on the bus, more than happy to help me find a decent hostel. The lady knows about one but when I get there its closed, go figure. I find another and it turns out to be pretty decent so I call, it's 15 € for a room but I got the double bed and was by myself. After getting my things in order I took off for a look around the city. It's an absolutely beautiful city, a working fishing town, it's the furthest city east in Europe, the old fella told me "next stop, new york". He was pretty funny. After having a bowl of seafood chowder that was fantastic (I'm not going to even think about what was in it), I walked back to the hostel. As I walked through the doors I heard a beautiful sound, the sound of women's laughter. It was music to my ears, so of course, being the shy one I am, I strolled into the kitchen where they were finishing up their dinner and asked if they were going to the pub, they said yes and I asked if they would mind if I went with them, they seemed delighted to have me along, so they knocked on my door around half 8 and off we went. We stopped at The Dingle Pub and were the only ones there so we had a pint and sat around talking. Great girls, very intelligent, great English, very pretty. They went out to have their french cigarette, of course, and came back in talking about hearing music so off we went again. We made our way to The Small Bridge, another pub in the city. Some great musicians were playing but I forgot their names. I met up with some American students who are studying at the old monestary, living in the nuns quarters. One of the girls, with balls of steel, got up and sang with the two guys, she has a fantastic voice, put the bar in silence as they listened to her sing old Celtic tunes. The French girls were tired so off we went, me being the perfect gentleman I am walked them back. Thats where I will end my story of the night. The next day I said my goodbyes because they were leaving. After my cup of tea, its getting to be a habit, I set off for Gallandrus, the man that runs the hostel said there was an oratory and castle there. I walked about 3 miles and got a lift from Ed the American from Wisconsin. I know, weird right, we talked about how he has to hide from the tax man and has friends in the states lie for him. He dropped me at the Oratory although it seemed closed. I figured I would just hop the fence as was suggested to me by Ed. I walk up to the museum (sp, i know, i should be able to spell that), and an old man pops up outta no where instructing me where to go and how to get to the castle. He spoke a mixture of Gaelic and English so it was quite the experience trying to figure out what he was saying. I made my short trek up to the Oratory and read the sign posted there, it was built in the 7th or 8th Century, not quite sure why they couldnt figure out which one it was, I took the required pictures and off I went towards the castle. I was far from impressed but apparently this is how the Irish built their castles, rectangular and boring. I heard it was nice inside but since it's not tourist season it was locked up, believe me, I tried getting in. After looking at the castle I headed back up towards the oratory where I spotted the old guy spying on me from behind some bushes, it made me laugh out loud because I turned around real quick and caught him. It was one of the funniest things I had seen since being in Ireland. It's great how the smallest things can make you laugh when you're alone. I headed off down the road, not quite sure where I was going but looking off into the beautiful countryside towards the sea. I passed by a house for sale, I think someone I know should buy it. It would be a grand vacation home and I could be the caretaker. After about two miles I came upon a crossroads with an old closed hotel on one side with picnic benches. I thought this would be as good a place as any to write so I stated writing a little in my journal. It was about 60 degrees at this point in time and very sunny, but not more than 10 mintues into writing the temp dropped about 20 degrees and it started raining. That was fun. I quickly put on my rainjacket which I had so thoughtfully decided to carry with me and stuck out my thumb yet again. I got a ride from an Irish mechanic that many of the girls I know would have loved to meet. Didn't get his name but he instructed me how to get to the tower. He dropped me at the crossroads where Ed from Wisconsin picked me up. I set off in the opposite direction from Dingle, stopped and got a fresh baguette filled with blood sausage, regular sausage, eggs, hashbrowns, and bacon. It was very tasty but I couldn't finish it so I wrapped it up and stuck it in my pocket for later. I refilled my water bottle and walked about 8 miles before I got to the farmers cottage. On the way there I found an old abandoned cemetary, it was one of those creepy looking cemetaries you find in horror movies but the more I walked around the more peaceful it got. Started thinking about the lives the people buried here lived and the hardships they must have went through. It's quite mind blowing when you think about the things people went through over here, they work so hard for so little, but in the end they die, just like everyone else. I suppose their sense of accomplishment is from raising a family and providing for them. I suppose I'm not quite mature enough to understand that. Anyway, after reaching the farmers cottage I payed my 2 euro even though there was no one there, it's what the sign said and I didnt feel like pissing off some old irish farmer in the country. I noticed on my way that when you mix the smells of mud, sheep poo, cow poo, and rain you get a smell that reminded me exactly of Copenhagen Long Cut snuff. As I trudged through the muck up this hill, I realized how out of shape I was. Although this was no small feat I made it in 30 minutes. I had to sidestep small hills of sheep dung in order to not smell like a farmer when I got back into town. When it made it to the top I realized how worth it the journey was. I took some great photos, finished my sandwich from earlier and started down again. After walking about 6 miles I got a lift from a sheep farmer who smelled divine. He was a great guy though and took right into town. I stopped into the outdoors shop and bought a trekking pole, could have used it earlier. After getting back to the hostel I took a super hot shower (my first in two days), and put on fresh clothes since mine were so muddy. I made my way back into my room and what did I find but the beautiful German girl, Rafaela. We had a quick chat and she went down to cook herself dinner while I wrote in my journal. We had made plans to meet later that night at The Small Bridge for more live music since they have it 365 days a year. We got a small table to ourselves and waited, we got there around 8, music didnt start til half 9. I had a few too many pints and we headed back around 11. She was an amazing girl and we had some very intelligent conversations about the state of the world and whatnot. Funny thing, she had an Australian accent, thats what happens when you live in Australia for 6 months. Today I added more minutes to my phone, dropped off my laundry which consisted of 1 pair of muddy pants, 1 shirt, boxers, and socks and is costing me 12 euro. you gotta do what you gotta do, its the only place open in town and its the flat rate for the laundry. BS i would say but whatever. I'm going to upload my pics and video and then I will be off. I miss you all greatly and I thank you so much for posting your comments. I will respond when the internet doesn't cost so much. Love to you all,
Alex
