That Far Green Shore

“Geographically, Ireland is a medium-sized rural island that is slowly but steadily being consumed by sheep.”
--Dave Barry

Our flight left JFK at 3am on the 1st of July. We arrived in Shannon, as a concession to be forced to miss our Dublin flight, at around 2 o'clock on the afternoon of the July 2nd. Shannon airport was quaint, with an old appearance and a military base smell. Most of the people on our flight had either been the aforementioned displaced Dubliners, "Peace Ambassador" kids, or actual residents of Ireland. We sat next to an older Irish lady on the plane that was very friendly and told us that we would have an absolute blast in Ireland at our age, especially Galway. She suggested all the things we should see before conceding that we probably wouldn't have enough time.

The wonder of all wonders to us was that after we landed, our luggage actually showed up on the conveyor belt. This miracles was no doubt facilitated by our good friend Scott in Cleveland, may his name forever be held in esteem. We took notice that Dave (the guy who offered us a ride) was having difficulty with getting his car...so we decided not to be a bother and just bought bus tickets. They were only 19 euro to cross the country from shore to shore almost. This turned out to be a fine decision as we saw a great cross-section of rural Ireland, and likely saved a few euro in the process (considering gas and what have you.) On the bus, we met a duo of Aussie girls who spotted the Australian flag patch on my day-bag and inquired of our origin. Georgia, we told them, in the States.
"Really? You don't have a Georgia accent." To which we replied, we hear that alot. Especially in Georgia. They were from Sydney and inquired as to how I found it when I was there. I told them it was a beautiful city, and very nice, but that I had preferred Brisbane. The girl who had posed the question said that she thought Sydney sucked. Her friend, in a fit of patriotic fervor, spoke up and said,
"No! He said Brisbane's better than Sydney. That's a f---ing insult!"
Chris and I couldn't help but laugh.


Our bus out of Shannon Airport arrived on time and took us to Limerick where we switched buses for the one heading to Dublin, unfortunately parting ways with our Aussie friends who were bound for instead for Kilarny. Limerick was a beautiful town with a medieval appearance and all the trappings of stereotypical Ireland. It was a shame we only set foot there long enough to change buses. The trip then consisted of crossing the country and admiring the vast acreage of farm land (Ireland outside of Dublin is a firmly agrarian society) punctuated by castle after ruin after castle. The remnants of Medieval times quite literally litter the countryside, and in many places ancient stone buildings are left to disintegrate as the surrounding communities go on expanding. I saw many places where half a castle was a block down from a gaudy glass and steel Ford dealership.


There was a surprising amount of cattle, especially near Limerick. Only about halfway across the country did sheep really become prominent. At one point, our bus and all traffic at a three-way intersection was held up as a wayward heard of unattended sheep crossed over the road. At one point in our trip we stopped for a ten minute break in a tiny hamlet called Borris-in-Ossory. We followed the driver into a place marked "shop" that contained a food counter and a bar. The place was deserted save for one lone gentlemen having a pint and the girl who was manning the place. I bought an orange Club, which is basically carbonated orange juice. Twas delicious.

The whole bus trip took about 4 and 1/2 hours, and we arrived in the center of Dublin around 7:30pm. With our packs over our shoulders we set out to find Abraham House, our lodging. We arrived after getting directions from a helpful Dubliner and checked in. It was around that time we learned of Hetty's misfortune and, after performing a quick facebook check, learned that Ashley and Stephanie had made it in safely early that day. We couldn't find them at first, and might have even passed them on the street outside the hostel (Chris and I are still in debate about this fact.) Thus, with a mighty hunger, we set out to wander Dublin marveling at how it was still perfectly light at almost 9 o'clock. Dublin has extraordinary long days, and it does not even get truly dark until about 10 in the summer (i.e. as I type.)

The problem is that, though it still looks like day, most of the shops and things close up around 5 to six. Chris and I ranged from our place north of the Liffey River, which divides the city, to the Grafton Street (which is big pedestrian street lined with shops and restaurants) passed the statue of Molly Malone with her wheel barrow to St. Stephen's Green. The only places still open were either only serving drinks or were McDonald's and Burger King (of which we have seen at least five of each.) Finally, in a bit of good fortune we discovered O'Neills which was serving food and looked to be just the friendly sort of Irish pub you would expect to find. The way you got your food was to approach a sort of deli counter in the back and order, get your food, and pay right there. Then you could sit anywhere and enjoy. The fellow working the counter was a harried Frenchman who dissed out Chris a bowl of stew with mash, and I a plate of leg of lamb with mash, cabbage, and the best turnips I have ever eaten. Washed down with the obligatory Guinness, it made for quite a satisfying meal. After eating, we discovered that live music was being played upstairs, and we made our way forthwith to discover a young trio of musicians playing traditional tunes on the flute/whistle, fiddle, and guitar. All in all it made for a most fantastic evening. The place closed up at 11:30 and we decided to return to the hostel.

Upon our return, I had received a facebook message detailing the whereabouts of Ashley and Stephanie. They were one floor below us, so I hurried down and knocked on their door. I received no answer so I left to return, only to meet the girls on the stairs where they were searching for our room. We all got together and chatted for a while, learning that they had arrived to a rainy town (it has been sunny since) and pretty much just napped that whole afternoon. We made a game plan for the next day, the parted ways because they were expressly tired.

Chris and I's night didn't end there, simply because our internal clocks were all out of sorts. Thus, after an hour or so of browsing on the Internet and blogging, we set out again to see if anything at all was open. Our goal was to find McDonald's but we settled on a Supermacs, which is a Irish McDonald's rip-off. The food was what you would expect, and the late night clientele was colorful to say the least.

Afterwards we returned to Abraham house and slept with the cool air (it doesn't get above the mid seventies) blowing through the open window.

The next morning I was awoken many times by the loud, utterly obnoxious cackle of the local sea gulls. The sound is akin to what one might hear if listening to the brutal murder of a cat.

Next up: Dublin by day.