Go Green

The flight from New York to Dublin was absolutely incredible. The sun had been tuckered out from trying to penetrate the clouds. Consequently it decided to retire for the evening. In doing so, it cast out the most vibrant pinks and oranges against the clouds below. My perceptions of sunsets were entirely shattered that very moment. The shards reflecting back even greater intensity in every passing moment. At one key point, I swear I was glaring down the mouth of Dante's Inferno as a lake of fire bubbled through. And I must contend, that if hell looks that gorgeous, Count. Me. In.

Shortly thereafter, while beginning the trek across the Atlantic, a storm similar to the one that was going on in Fort Morgan the evening prior began amassing. Eventually, I would witness freaking bolts of lightning from above. A light show lasting well over an hour. Simply incredible.

By the time I crossed the ocean, the sun was rising again. A sunset and sunrise in a span of 5 hours. Pretty surreal, and severely screwed with my head.

I hadn't found a place to stay yet, so I took advice on a hostel from a fellow traveler I'd met on the plane. It's alright thusfar... but I will probably avoid rooms with more than 8 people from here on out. 17 other backpackers arriving at various times of night is nearly too much. The beds happen to be situated in such a way that, while in a separate bed from the woman next to me, they're adjacent. I could, in theory "accidentally" roll over in my sleep a few times and I'd be on top of her. (bowchickabowwow)

In all seriousness though, eight beds are attached to one another, and you can really feel every movement everyone else's making. It almost reminds me of a boat.

The very first and most appropriate thing Dawson (the fellow on the plane) and I did was head to the Guiness Storehouse. The entry fee naturally covers a free pint at the top of the Guiness-shaped glass building, and has quite the view of the town to boot.

A fun fact about Arthur Guinness: When the city came to control his water supply (from the Wicklow Mountains) in 1775, Arthur came brandishing a pick axe to defend what was his.

The only other notable thing from the factory, is that roughly 100 batches of Guinness are made there a week, producing just a ton of barrels. I pressed the button that created batch 2148.

I'd intended on going to Inishmore and a couple other of the Aran Islands today on the other side of the country, but I missed the bus, and a chance of making all subsequent connections and ferries and getting back before my flight tomorrow morning was slim to none. My back up choice was heading north to Giant's Causeway, but I suppose I wasn't MacCool enough to make that bus either.

Instead, I rented a bike and rode throughout Phoenix Park and spent a great deal of time on Couchsurfing, trying to nail down some loose plans for Milano and northern Italy. Maybe 'nail down' isn't quite the phrase one would use for loose plans. How's about 'sticky note' some plans. Yup. That's the ticket to ride.

So what I'm trying to say is, I pretty much blew my opportunities for Ireland, and I will most certainly make up for it down the road. I am still pretty full of jet-laggery after all, and it was nice to sit around and talk with the folks here at the hostel. Some pretty rad backpackers from Spain and France running about.

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