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Published: November 28th 2004
Belfast
This is one of the famous murals in West Befast. Were ever you move, the riffle is always pointing at youWe arrived in Dublin from London’s Stansted Airport around 3pm Sunday (28th Nov) afternoon although by the time we reached our hostel (Paddy’s Palace, Dublin) it was already dark.
After dumping our backpacks in our room (just a room with one bunk bed), Adam & I headed off to the famous Temple Bar district for a pint of Guinness. We visited the Temple Bar itself and then moved on to a pub called The Arlington Hotel, where we listened to live Irish music and ate a roast dinner (well I did anyway). We sat at the table with a young couple from Norway, who only in town for the weekend. After discovering we were Australian, the bloke revealed his passion for Rugby...although it turns out the game he was actually referring to was Aussie Rules.
Back at the hostel, we sat in the communal area drinking from our hip flasks (which were still fresh from a visit to Twickenham!). There we met a few people who would be joining our tour. There was Michelle, the Canadian, who had been living in Dublin for a few months, along with three Aussie girls: Lauren from Sydney who is a cabaret singer,
Belfast
Group photo by the walls seperating East & West Belfast. Erin from Adelaide and Louise from Sydney.
Not wanting to peak WAY too early, we called it a night shortly after our fourth or fifth sip from the hip flask - which was starting to taste rather foul.
The first day of the tour (Mon 29th Nov) and as we had been advised, our tour guide/driver will “probably be running late”. When Phil eventually turned up, the group had assembled and we were able to see who we would be spending the next 7 days and 6 nights with - 2 other guys (one, who was part of a couple) and 15 girls. Out of those 17, two were from Canada.... The rest, all Australian.
The drive out of Dublin was quiet, due to the traffic, Phil being in a bad mood and 19 people on a bus not knowing anybody other than who they came with.
But things soon changed once we got out onto the open road. Phil insisted that at the first stop, everybody change seating arrangements so that they would not be sitting next to someone they knew already. He also went through the process of trying to remember everybody’s names by
Ballymena - Dunluce Castle
Dunluce Castle. The castle sits on ever-eroding rock. The caretakers fear that soon the western side of the castle will soon crumble and be swept away to sea. making us introduce ourselves and, for some people at least, tell their entire life stories.
To summarise what I heard of each story and what I learnt in the following six days, our consisted of:
Matt - the wanna be author who writes really long travel stories. Robin to Adam’s Batman.
Adam - Tall fella (must play basketball). Bit of a d*ckhead though.
Mick & Chelsea - both from the Sunshine Coast, QLD. Chelsea openly bi-sexual, Mick, openly happy man!
Erin, Lauren & Louise - all travelling together, Erin from Melbourne was living in London working at the same pub as Lauren, now unemployed and homeless. Lauren works at the Silver Arms in Whitehall, London but is an accomplished cabaret singer, the tour’s token redhead. I didn’t catch much about Louise unfortunately except that she is from Sydney.
Angie, Fiona & Jamie - again, all travelling together, Fiona, another singer is from Sydney but living in London. The littlest fella on tour. Angie was one of the token d*ckheads on tour (along with myself, Adam, Amy & Georgia). Very funny girl. Part Kiwi but we didn’t hold that against her. Jamie, I didn’t
Giant's Causeway
The Causeway, a formation of hexagonal pillars, was said to have been made by a giant (named Finn MacCool) who wanted to walk across to Scotland (which is only 8km away) to find a bride. It’s apparently good luck to walk to the end of the causeway and throw a penny into the sea. get to speak much to but she has promised to have a potato scallop for me when she gets back to Australia next week. Jamie was also the tour junior. Unlike all rugby tours I’ve been on, we did not make her carry any stupid items or insist she carry our bags. Shame really.
Amy, Georgia & Emma - The loudest and most outspoken group on tour (often at the most inappropriate moments), well...Amy & Georgia were. Most times you could find Emma in the back corner of the bus quietly reading her 10,000-page book on Oscar Wilde. Amy & Georgia are from Sydney, while Emma is from Melbourne. All went to school together at some point.
Jess - from Melbourne. Lovely girl, always smiling and excited about everything. Lived in Malaysia for a while and has promised to give me all the inside knowledge for when Vic & I go there.
Robert - country boy from the outback (where exactly, I’m not sure). Had been travelling on contiki before this tour and is heading home soon-ish. All round nice bloke. Had a thing for Claire.
Claire - I “think” Claire is from Melbourne, but I’m
Westport
A “traditional” seaweed bath. not sure. Claire has been living in Ireland for the past two years with her family, but her family has now moved back to Oz. Claire is joining them as soon as they sell the house in Ireland. Constantly on the phone to her estate agent trying to sell her house. Didn’t have a thing for Robert.
Bek - is from the sunshine coast, travelling on her own. Didn’t get to speak much to Bek but I can tell you that she doesn’t like drinking games very much.
Michelle - one half of our dynamic Canadian duo. She was the normal one. Has been living in Dublin for a few months prior to the tour.
Chrissy - affectionately known as Issychray (more on that later). Flat out weird. Likes drugs apparently and can be found regularly abusing hostel staff at 5am in the morning.
Last but not least, our bus driver Phil. He initially told us his name was Phil McCracken (you have to laugh) but we later found out his last name is English. Openly gay, although it took most of us about two or so days to figure it out. After that, his behavior
County Clare
750ft high Cliffs of Moher over the past few days suddenly made sense.
With all of us now friends, the REAL tour could begin. Our first stop on tour was at St. Peter's Church in Drogheda (County Meath - Republic of Ireland) which featured the preserved (actual) head of St. Oliver Plunkett (1681), the Archbishop of Armagh who was executed on false charges of treason in 1681 following his resistance to Oliver Cromwell's* activities.
*Oliver Cromwell - a brief biography
Oliver Cromwell Rose from relatively humble origins to become the most successful military and political leader of the Civil Wars. Lord Protector of the English Commonwealth from 1654-8, he was offered — and refused — the Crown itself. Hiss life and character has several different elements, each of which merits study, none of which can be seen in isolation from each other. The key themes are Cromwell the soldier, for it was his military prowess that propelled his extraordinary rise to power: Cromwell the politician as his skilful maneuvering maintained his position, and Cromwell's religion which arguably was the motivation that drove him from the 1630's onwards.
Source:
http://www.olivercromwell.org/biography.htm
The stop also provided the opportunity to grab some coffee and stretch
Paddywagon
The big orange bus! our legs from the drive so far.
Next we stopped at a graveyard in between Drogheda and Belfast, I can’t remember exactly where though. It was significant because it was overlooked by a tall watch tower (of which we would see many in the days to come) attached to a house, where the residents would climb up and hide when the English (or any unwanted guests for that matter) would attack.
After some quick photos, it was back on the road to Belfast. At this stage, Phil had gotten through all the necessary introductions and the group began to “mingle”. He must have thought that was his queue to relax I suppose, because from then until we reached Belfast, Phil sang incessantly into his microphone. Nothing of substance though, just random lyrics from a combination of approximately twelve or so songs.
We eventually arrived at our hostel in Belfast (another Paddy’s Palace) and were assigned rooms. I shared the room with Michelle, Amy, Emma, Georgia and one other who I can’t quite remember. Anyway, we weren’t in our rooms long before it was time to leave for our Black Cab Tour of the divided streets of West
Blarney
Blarney Castle - having just kissed the Blarney Stone Belfast. The tour was exactly what it says on the tin, 3 black cabs (ok 2 black ones...the one I was in was red!) drove us around Belfast city and took us to the main sites, all the while explaining the history that goes with them.
My first impression of Belfast, the birthplace of the Titanic and once the second richest city in the British Empire, was that it was a dark and soulless city. That impression didn’t change much as we saw the stark concrete barrier that is the peace wall, from both sides. It was exemplified when we saw the famous murals (large paintings on the sides of buildings) in both the Protestant/loyalist Shankill area and the Catholic/nationalist Falls Rd.
One mural featured a large IRA sniper in a balaclava holding a gun. And like the Mona Lisa’s eyes, the gun follows you wherever you move. Boarded up houses and abandoned buildings surrounded the grassed area, where two boys were kicking a soccer ball around.
On the black cab tour, we also saw the Europa hotel in the main street, which is the most bombed hotel in the world - not something you would imagine
they’d want to advertise.
Belfast, so far was becoming a depressing, although though interesting experience. That night, the mood was lightened by a group dinner at the local Weatherspoon’s pub (2 for 1 meals!) and a few drinks at “The Globe” - the local student hang out. Unfortunately for us, that night turned out to be “Rocky Horror” night at the Globe, so there were a few people present, wearing suspenders and fish net stockings. Poor Amy got a glimpse (or two) of one of the transvestites in the ladies toilets (were they supposed to be in there?). An experience, no doubt she will never forget. I forget what happened the rest of that night, I got pretty drunk trying to introduce drinking games to the group and somehow lost my beanie in the process. I later learned that Georgia & Amy found a beanie on the floor of the pub (after I had left) and played soccer with it, although they didn’t know it was mine at the time.
The following day (Tues 30th Nov), we left Belfast and headed west to Derry. Our first stop, on the way however, was at Dunluce castle. The cliff-top fortress
is located in Ballymena - the hometown of Jimeoin, the Irish comedian who made it big in Australia. After taking photos of the castle, part of which was covered in scaffolding due to restoration, we set off to see the 8th wonder of the world - The Giant’s Causeway.
The Causeway, a formation of hexagonal pillars, was said to have been made by a giant (named Finn MacCool) who wanted to walk across to Scotland (which is only 8km away) to find a bride. It’s apparently good luck to walk to the end of the causeway and throw a penny into the sea. So that’s what we all did. After taking more photos, tossing pennies into the sea and almost losing Lauren to a crashing wave, we were back on course for Derry.
At nightfall, we arrived in Derry - referred to as Londonderry by Northern Ireland’s Unionists Community, due to the fact that it was The City of London that paid for the walls surrounding the old city centre.
The old centre of Derry is the small walled city on the west bank of the river. From the top of the city walls (which you can
Tweedle Dum & Tweedle Dee
Georgia & Amy on the Horse & Cart through Killarny National Park walk on) there are good views of the Bogside and its murals - 'No Surrender!' - and the Free Derry monument. Derry was the scene of Bloody Sunday in 1972.
We did a walking tour with a local guy (can’t remember his name) who grew up in the city. We saw a city still so clearly divided by religion and politics. Our guide mentioned that he had thrown more petrol bombs as a boy, than we’d had hot dinners. That comment gave us only a slight insight into what it must have been like to grow up in such a hostile environment.
That night, we all ate together as a group in the hostel - the hostel had kindly ordered 10 or 12 pizzas for us (although we did have to pay for them). So we sat around eating, drinking and chatting. Some people (including myself) took goes at playing with the tiny kitten that lived in the hostel.
With our stomachs full and our alcohol supply dwindling, the group headed out into the city centre to find “the craic”. My understanding of what the “craic” (pronounced “crack”) means is that it’s where people have the best
Touched by an Angle
A view from the beach. This photo does not do the spectacular view justice..but at least you get an idea! time. It’s not necessarily a particular place either. It can be collective groups of people all having a good time.
Anyway, we went to a pub close by and somehow ended up huddled outside the door to the blokes’ toilets (which I’m sure the girls enjoyed immensely). As the Guinness began to flow, Phil our bus driver began to dance and was eventually challenged to a “dance-off” with an old codger who’d had too much to drink. After the dance off, which we judged Phil won, the old guy asked me if I was Catholic or Protestant. Given we were still in Derry and remembering what I had seen in the last few hours, I didn’t think there was real right or wrong answer to that question. I found the only (sensible) answer I could really give was “I’m an Australian, mate”. He seemed to accept this and told me to “behave myself”. I’m not sure exactly what he was referring to though.
After losing half our group to the “too drunk/tired to carry on” fairy, the rest of us continued on to a night club called The Metro. The doors were well and truly shut (as it
Look out below
Waves crash on the way through Cork was after hours) but some smooth talking by Phil with the bouncer got us in with enough time to get some drinks in and have a bit of a dance until the place closed proper.
They played mostly 70’s disco music but upon learning of our arrival, the DJ generously played “Down Under” by Men at Work for us. It was a funny night, captivated by Claire walking out of the pub and snogging some random bloke. Walking home was quite eerie as the fog had descended to be around head height and we found we were the only people walking through the old city at that time of night.
Amy & Georgia stayed out a bit later and came back around 5am speaking really bad pig latin. Adam & I reserved our laughter later that morning when we informed them that they weren’t the only ones who knew how to speak pig latin. Incidentally they were only discussing who was snoring really loudly when they came into the room. I think they narrowed it down to either Emma & Chrissy - or Mmaeay and Issychray in this instance.
The next day (Wed 1st Dec), we made
Giant's Causeway
Waves crash over the Giant's Causeway an early start, heading south in the direction of Galway. Our first stop however, was at the grave of Ireland’s national poet WB Yeats. I had mushroom soup in the coffee shop there, while reloading what felt like the hundredth roll of film into my camera. From there it was on to Westport, where for 16 Euro, you could take a “traditional” seaweed bath. Like the black cab tour, this was pretty self-explanatory - run a hot bath, stick a pile of fresh seaweed in it, and get in!
Apparently the gel from the seaweed is really good for your skin and hair or something like that but it was pretty relaxing regardless. Phil described it as smoking a joint, but without the headache. Judging by the looks on everyone’s faces as they each came out of the baths, our bus should have been high as a kite.
With the majority of the bus in a comatose state, Phil pushed on to Galway in relative silence and we arrived at our destination shortly after 5pm.
We dumped our bags in our rooms. Amy, Emma & Georgia had a power nap whilst Adam & I went out to
explore Ireland’s most hip, party city. Fortunately shops were still open so I was able to buy a new beanie and we both checked our emails at a cheap internet cafe. Following that, we met up with the rest of the group for a meal.
After a recommendation from one of the locals who had decided to saddle up to our table (I’m guessing seeing fifteen women and just four blokes, he was liking his chances), Adam, myself, Amy, Emma, Georgia and Claire moved on to the pub next door. Eoin, the local, had told me that this is “the place to be”. After spending five minutes there and an extortionate amount of money on two drinks, I think he might have been spinning a bit of a yarn. We left not long after.
The girls decided to head back to the hostel, still recovering from their 5am performance the night before, while Adam & I went off in search of the rest of the group, who had now moved on also. After unsuccessful attempts to find them, we decided to head back to the hostel, where we joined the girls in an impromptu game of “bingo” in
our room. It was a relatively quite night after that, with our sleep only moderately interrupted by Emma’s sleep talking and Georgia snoring (think of a tractor driving through your room at 3am in the morning).
The next morning (Thurs 2nd Dec), we got a bit of a sleep in (only because Phil was late) and jumped on the bus all in good spirits. We got the Shannon Ferry into County Clare, home to the famine walls and the scene of Ireland’s biggest national disaster - the Great Famine of 1845-49. With most of the country dependant on the potato as their staple diet, an estimated one million people starved to death when a fungus, commonly known as “Blight” destroyed their crops.
Around midday, we arrived at the 750ft high Cliffs of Moher for some scenic photos. I used a whole roll of film at this place alone! It was simply spectacular. We had lunch in the small cafe there and did a bit of touristy shopping in the gift shop (I bought a Leprechaun...two in fact!). Later that afternoon, we headed to the closest town (which I can’t remember the name of) to a super market where we were to buy ingredients to cook a “group” meal at the hostel that night. In an optimistic call from Phil, he had suggested at the beginning of the tour that one night, we all contribute to a group dinner. For a group of twenty, that was just not going to work, so we again split up into our little groups and bought ingredients to make meals for just the smaller group.
It’s interesting how the groups has split up into definitive groups - all pretty much based on the rooms that we shared on either the first or second night of the tour. Our group being Amy, Emma, Georgia, Adam & myself. We were pretty much the d*ckheads of the tour - people laugh at/with us...and we don’t care.
Anyway...
Following another round of singing from Phil - who was looking more and more like Otto from the Simpsons every day, we arrived at the new hostel of (Paddy Wagon’s) choice - the Randy Leprechaun. The locals in the small town of Anascal, where it is based (Pop. 500) are not too keen on it’s neither name nor appearance (bright green!). It doesn’t help that it’s directly opposite a church either!
The hostel is run by Garry the South African and his Aussie girlfriend Christine and has a pub attached to it as well as 10 dorms/rooms.
After cooking a tonne of pasta (I’m not kidding!), which we ate only half of, the drinking games began. The girls in the group were gaining a distinct like for “The Grand Old Duke of York”. If you don’t know it, I’ll tell you about it another time. As the drinks flowed freely and the games digressed, we came upon the old game of “Drink if you have ever...” Not many people hung around to the end, but those that did, were drinking to most things!
I popped over to the pub next door with Adam, Chelsea, Mick & Claire to listen to the Irish singer (and it was three cocktails for ten Euro! they weren’t very nice though). The Irish music began to put me to sleep (or was it the cocktails?), so I went back next door to find I had missed a solo singing performance by Lauren & Fiona. Thankfully I caught the last chorus of what ever Fiona was singing to appreciate she has a stunning voice.
Thinking now might be a good time to pop up to the room and top up my trusty hip flask, I found comfort in knowing I had the room to myself and a very soft bed. Sleep was imminent and I had the best night sleep on tour that night, going to bed at 10:30pm.
In my slumber, I missed another round of Lauren, Fiona and this time Phil singing on the microphone next door. But I can take solace in the fact I was the only one not hung over the next day.
We waved goodbye to Garry, Christine and the Randy Leprechaun on Friday 4th Dec, driving south to the peninsula, and into Dingle. Dingle is a world famous, Irish speaking fishing village. We stopped there for lunch (Jess & I had a BLT, while the others had soup. Emma waited longer than you should for a prawn and mayo sandwich). I got another chance to check my emails and Adam & I both had our photos taken outside the Dingle Pub - for good luck apparently.
I should point out, at this stage, Phil is VERY superstitious. He makes a point of everyone spotting at least one white horse a day, for good luck. On the one-day we did not see one, Amy saw one in her dream (apparently) while sleeping on the bus. Somehow though, I don’t think it counts.
After lunch we headed out to Slea Head and walked on the most fabulous secluded beach I have ever seen. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the name of it. I don’t think any photo could possibly do this stunning view any justice.
We found some random blokes on the beach to take (several) group photos of us - the old fella held down the button on my camera (way) too long, so I’ve been blessed with over five copies of this.
We also saw a dead seal, which had been shot in the head. Apparently there had been some slaughtering going on earlier that week --it was in the news but I didn’t see it.
Anyway, we got back on the bus and headed inland to Killarney for our final night on tour. Phil dropped us off outside the national park where we would catch a Jaunting Car ride through the park and to our hostel (Jaunting Car meaning Horse and Cart).
Our “driver” John, was a local man although I presumed he had spent some time in Jamaica, judging by the way he spoke (ey mon). Phil later informed me that his was a local accent.
Upon arriving at yet another Paddy’s Palace, we dumped our bags and went for a walk around the town before the official meet time for dinner (7pm). From what we saw, Killarney consists of two main streets, both intersecting each other. And from walking from one end of the street to the other, you can see pretty much all that Killarney has to offer.
We met back at the hostel to regroup and head out to dinner. Adam & I broke out the wigs and it drew instant attention. The attention coming my way, were comments such as “you should really grow your hair, Matt” (seriously!). The only attention Adam got was from Ange - “Can I please wear your wig”. She looked like a cross between Rizzo from Grease and an old bag lady that should be feeding the pigeons.
At dinner, Phil insisted that we all drink a “Car Bomb” - traditional Irish “kick-starter”. A kick-starter is a drink that you can have one (or possibly two) of that will get you going for the rest of the night. This particular drink consisted of a half-pint of Guinness with a shot of Whisky & Baileys dropped into it (glass and all). It should be downed in one immediately.
The whole group took up the challenge although some of the girls weren’t quite sure what they were getting themselves into. Spotting the rugby players was quite easy, seeing both Adam & myself down the drink and slam the glass onto the table in about two seconds flat. Meanwhile, Bek quietly sipped on hers until everyone had turned their attention to her. She successfully managed to down the three-quarters that were left.
After dinner, we went to a pub that had a night club in the back. Naturally we went straight to the club. We found an empty dance floor and a DJ playing really loud “doof doof” music. After informing him of our presence (and musical preference) he changed his tune (mind the pun) and began to play 70’s and 80’s cheese - much to our delight.
We danced for most of the night. Phil headed off just after midnight to make sure he was able to drive the next day, while we continued to kick up a storm on the dance floor. I made the DJ play Ice Ice Baby so George and I could perform a rap-dance. Very cool.
I lost my jumper somewhere along the line and for a short space of time, misplaced my camera. Found the camera, not the jumper.
Back at the ranch (or hostel in this case), we all slept soundly knowing our last night together had been a big one. That was, of course, until Amy woke up around 4am stating “Issychray isn’t back yet” and then going back to sleep. For what it’s worth, Chrissy eventually turned up around 8am just as we were heading out for breakfast.
Saturday 5th of December was our last day of the tour, so we began the (long) drive back up to Dublin. We stopped off at a castle or three, the first of those being the Blarney Castle - made famous by the presence of the Blarney Stone. The story goes that all who kiss the stone are “blessed” with the gift of the gab. I kissed the stone - it’s not as easy as it sounds, you have to hang upside down, approximately 30 feet in the air! There’s an old bloke there to hold you there, of course. Despite our plea’s Georgia did kiss the stone, but thankfully I don’t think she talked any more that she had previously on the way home.
The second and third castles, I can’t remember much about unfortunately, except that the third castle signaled the stop for lunch!
Adam, Georgia, Amy, Emma & myself found a quiet restaurant not far from the castle and had an almost free lunch of soup, water & bread (we had to pay for the soup!). Emma & George ordered from the “kiddies” menu, where sausages and chips turned out to be two tiny cocktail franks and a plate load of chips.
Before we set off, Mick & Chelsea presented Phil with a card signed by all of us and a couple of presents to show our appreciation for making the tour what it was. Needless to say, he got a little bit emotional.
Most of us slept on the way back to Dublin but we were all able to exchange email addresses etc. We dropped Claire off at her house (about an hour out from Dublin) and gave Rob a standing ovation when he got back on the bus from helping Claire with her bags. He did try, bless him.
Finally, we arrived in Dublin. With most of us staying in Dublin that night, a final drinking session sounded like a grand idea. But first, we had to say good bye to Phil. After 7 whole days, we’d gotten to know the bloke pretty well and I know we all thought he was a top guy. He gave everyone a hug (separately - I can see you imagining a big group hug) and said his good byes.
Adam & I checked into the Globetrotter Hostel, not just because we didn’t want to stay in another Paddy’s Palace, but because it is said to be the best hostel in Europe, maybe the world. I tell you, it comes close. Great rooms, great showers, complimentary hot breakfast, all for eleven Euro and fifty cents! Bargain if you ask me.
We met the rest of the group at a pub in the Templebar district called The Porterhouse - we had our Christmas drinks at the corresponding pub in London a few years ago. After sitting by ourselves for nearly two hours, Adam & I were on the verge of heading back to hostel, when finally the girls turned up.
After paying eight Euro for a vodka and red bull and several “so where is next for you” conversations, some people said their good byes and headed back to the hostel. The rest of us, keen to continue somewhere (much) cheaper headed to O’Shea’s bar just around the corner from our hostel (and Paddy’s Palace where the girls were staying). Rob, Fiona & Jamie stayed only for a little bit but then left soon after finishing their drinks, leaving myself, Adam, Amy, Georgia & Emma in the pub by ourselves (again).
We stayed in the pub well after closing time, drinking Guinness and recounting our favourite and funniest moments of the tour and singing Irish songs that Phil taught us (ok, it was just the one).
Incase you are interested, the song went like this:
Bog down in the valley
(Chorus)
O-ro the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o
O-ro the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o
And in that bog there was a tree, a rare tree, a rattlin' tree
With the tree in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that tree there was a limb, a rare limb, a rattlin' limb
With the limb on the tree and the tree in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that limb there was a branch, a rare branch, a rattlin' branch
With the branch on the limb and the limb on the tree and the tree in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
(Repeat, adding a line each time)
Now on that branch there was a twig, a rare twig, a rattlin' twig.....
Now on that twig there was a nest, a rare nest, a rattlin' nest.....
Now in that nest there was an egg , a rare egg, a rattlin' egg.....
Now in that egg there was a bird, a rare bird, a rattlin' bird.....
Now on that bird there was a feather, a rare feather, a rattlin' feather .....
Now on that feather there was a flea, a rare flea, a rattlin' flea .....
ANYWAY, Again, I digress...
I tried to summarise my funniest moments from the tour but I was unable to narrow it down. So here, in no particular order are some that spring to mind as I write this:
Georgia walking (or rather barging) in on Issycray whilst she was on the bog (this one was not down in the valley) prompting her to assume the brace position and scream (in a loud Canadian accent) HeEEEY! Georgia freaked out and made a quick exit from the room, whilst Adam, bless him, got an eye-full of the whole thing.
Every morning, without fail, Amy would wake up and quote some random lines from any Jay & Silent Bob at you. By the end of it, I think we all knew the words
Claire walking out of the Metro nightclub in Derry and snogging that bloke on the street. “What? He was cute!” was all she could come up with as an excuse.
It wasn’t really part of the tour but on our final night in Dublin, a guy in our dorm, sleeping on the top bunk got up to go to the toilet early in the morning. He must have forgotten he was on the top bunk because he fell off and slammed into the bottom bunk opposite, which Adam was sleeping on. I couldn’t get to sleep after that because I was laughing too hard.
There were many others, such as Emma talking in her sleep most nights and Phil’s singing on the bus. In all we were pretty much laughing for the entire six days, lead mostly by Phil, Angie, George and Amy.
The highlight(s) of the trip, for me was Belfast and Derry. It was such an eye opener to see a non-third world country living in such atrocious conditions.
Although I’m disappointed we didn’t get to spend more time in most places (particularly Dublin, although it wasn’t officially part of the tour), Ireland was a fantastic experience. This was mainly due to
1. Ireland providing a magnificent and beautiful back drop,
2. our bus driver/ tour guide being so enthusiastic, funny and knowledgeable and
3. a great bunch of people gelling together (almost immediately) and being up for absolutely everything we did (except some of the drinking games).
I’ve no doubt I’ll be seeing some, if not most of those guys again in the future. Maybe it’ll be in London, Australia or where ever our travelling paths cross in the future.
My desire to “quit” working to become a full time traveler and travel writer has been further emphasised (again) by this trip.
That said, it’s good to be “home”...for now.
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anonymous
non-member comment
6 day All-Ireland tour: interesting journal + I'll try to match it!!!
Dear Matt, it has been very interesting reading your travel journal of your 6 day-tour in Ireland. I've also found it very useful because I am going on the same tour in June. Now I have got a better idea of what it is going to be like and I am very excited. Also you have inspired me: I have decided to write a diary too. I am going to take a copy of yours, so that I can compare and have fun writing. I would love to send a copy. Have fun with your travelling and I hope to hear from you. This is my email adress: l_marchionni@hotmail.com. Take care, Lara - Lara Marchionni