Lost in Bangor

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Went to the beautiful seaside village of Bangor today. We walked along the sea wall past the harbour and the rows of tidy little San Francisco-like homes. I wonder if the people who live there take for granted that spectacular view across the peninsula? So beautiful.

The wind across the water is brutally cold and smells like sea salt. The water was really choppy which Rose tells me is referred to as "white horses." (Remember Rose is from Ireland so she's hip to the lingo and legend).

I said, "how do the waves look like horses?"

She said, "Have you no imagination? The whitecaps are like their manes."

I suppose if you had a few pints under your belt, the waves could look like horse manes surfacing momentarily then rolling under the water. Like horses moving sideways. Drunk horses, apparently.

This may be sacrilege to say, but I don't really like the ocean. It's too big... too vast... too powerful and it makes my heart pound to think of how many people have disappeared into its depths. I prefer the lush and friendly countryside with a view of the ocean in the distance. Rose, however, loves the water. She even loves dulce, that ghastly seaweed that the ocean belches onto the beach and people actually eat. Gack...

Mark dropped us off and pointed out a street where we could find some good shops. We decided to walk instead along the oceanfront for a while. We made our way back up the scenic little back-to-back houses just in time for the kids to get out of school. Looked like class had let out of Hogwarts with all the kids in their lover-ly uniforms. (If you haven't read Harry Potter... get with the program!) Gryffindor? Ravenclaw? Slytherin? And I forget what the other one was.

After an unsuccessful shopping excursion (anyone who knows me knows I hate shopping) we headed for the bus stop. We asked the bus driver which bus would get us to Gransha Road, which is where we are staying. The driver pointed out a bus... we hopped on and were on our way, proud of how good we had become at navigating through Ulster's public transport. We overheard a little old woman saying she was going to Gransha too. No prob, we'd get off when she did.

Twenty minutes later, the old woman got off the bus at a place that was NOT our Gransha Road. It was totally unfamiliar. Turns out, there is a Gransha Road in Bangor AND in Dundonald, which are miles apart. We had to go all the way back to Bangor and start over again. The very nice bus driver demonstrated yet again that great Irish hospitality when he said, "this is your lucky day because I'm off work now and I live off the Gransha Road in Dundonald. I'll run you home."

Which he did. Right to Mark's front door.

How's that for service?

Mark laughed at us. Said we could get lost in a circle. He's always making fun of us. Says if we were pigeons, we'd fly backwards.

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Comments

[Lauren]

Shopping eh?
SHopping, eh? DON'T FORGET!: -Buttons -Flake bars (LOTS, I don't think Dirk has tried them before and I need enough to share - so like, 20) -Cockles!! Papa brought some back for me and Angie and she ate them ALL!!!!