I arrived in Gort Friday afternoon where the wife of my pet-sitting job (I will just call them husband and wife, not sure if people are comfortable having their names on here...) came and picked me up in her van. She is a very kind, friendly, caring woman that has a weakness for taking in stray pets. That's how she ended up with the rabbits and guinea pig that I am to take care of. Somehow I missed the chickens part of it, but yes, there are 11 chickens that I am to care for and collect eggs from. We drove up to their charming cottage that overlooks the Burren, a geological phenomenon, a sea shelf from the Carboniferous Era where tropical plants as well as those from the Arctic can grow at the same time. We went for a walk with the dogs (two German Shepherds that have since been kenneled while they are away) on the Burren the other day and it felt like somewhere between walking on the Moon and being in the desert. The wife told me that there are canals and rivers below the rock which actually flood into a lake in the winter. It was hard to imagine even rain on this ancient arid rock. I look forward to exploring this further and learning more about it during my stay.
At first meeting the husband seemed a bit mistrusting of me and rather eccentric, yelling things out constantly and then laughing like a cartoon character. He is a successful filmmaker, obsessed with films, and showed me his collection of DVDs that I will keep myself entertained with. Over the weekend I found myself quickly getting used to the quirks and found them both to be very warm sweet people. The husband kept saying that if anything happens to their house that I should just take off and go back to America and anytime he would show me something about the house or something I needed to do he'd say that I must have my wits about me if I'd gotten this far in life, if I knew what he meant, this that and the other.... He got a bike ready for me to use and when I went for the 'inagural trip' I asked if I was supposed to stay on the left side and go with the flow of traffic and his reply was Jesus! You have ridden a bike before haven't you?! He is from Dublin and definitely showed that famous Irish wit in everything he said.
Talking to them, and really everyone I encounter, it's very interesting to see the European perspective on Americans and the US. The husband asked me if I realized just how much the entire world hates Bush and that it's a shame that Americans get wrapped up in that package when for the most part Americans are very good people. Ireland is on the verge of a major recession, something that is talked about constantly. At home the focus seemed to be what was happening to our economy, the downfall and all that, when here it is more about the global economy that is falling. Everything is linked together and everything is suffering. Spain is experiencing a mortgage crisis which is expected to come to Ireland as well--it's sort of like dominoes from my understanding. But something else that I am struck by is just how long it's going to take to repair the damage that's been done not only in our country but all over the world. It feels like hundreds of years. Anyway, you really get a sense of the damage that has been done. But I'm not any pro on politics so I should just leave it to the BBC but it is something that's been a rather interesting topic of conversation.
Anyway, tt was very fun spending time with the two of them and they seemed to take me in like family. They are both obsessed with food and eating well and therefore we ate very well all weekend. I welcomed this very much especially after living off of B&B breakfasts and pub dinners (all of which tasted delicious but at the same time I ask myself what wouldn't taste delicious when you are starving? It was a first, but at one B&B I had porridge that they laced with Bailey's...drinking is still quite a part of the culture here, although I hear it is tapering off, but I'm off on a tangent here!). Even the day they left, the wife made some delicious vegetable chowder and baked two loaves of brown bread for me to eat while they were away. They endearingly called each other Piggy, which at first I thought was rather insulting, but as I got to know them found it fit perfectly. They were very cute and entertaining. Their lively spirits are all over the house with trinkets from their travels and a rather haberdashery decorating aesthetic--it's all rather quaint and comforting and it still seems as though they are here.
Now it's just me with the 4 rabbits (one of which is named Psyhco Bunny, because it bites), the guinea pig, eleven chickens, and at the moment, quite a few flies that are buzzing around inside the house as I type. I did just get all of my laundry done and managed to wash the sheep dung out of my running shoes in the washing machine, so it can't be me that is attracting them. At times when I was walking I would have hoards of flies following me and at one point began running to try and escape them. I felt like that Peanut's character Pig-Pen even though I did keep quite clean! The chickens are rather funny to watch, I don't know if it's from Disney movies but they all look like they are wearing billowing aprons, huffing and puffing about. I wondered what was wrong with one of them earlier as it was shuffling around in a dusty hole outside of the window but guessed that this must have been what the wife told me about them liking to take dust baths. They are funny. If I walk outside they all crowd around thinking I will feed them. (They are fed once a day in the morning). I collected their eggs at noon, the time that I let them out of their run, so that they've all had time to lay and I can get them before the lurking magpies do. It was kind of amazing to feel just-laid warm eggs. They each more or less lay one each day. The wife has someone picking up the eggs every few days to take to work and sell or give away. I am free to eat as many as I'd like and look forward to a yummy scramble. Lately, and now that I am free to create my own menu, I've just been wanting fresh veggies and salads!
So, my situation here, I am in three miles from Kinvarra, a cute little port village on Galway Bay, and 20 miles from Galway, my favorite big city in Ireland with lots of art and culture. The question remains how will I get into either. The husband and wife, as I said, put together a nice bike for me to use, with helmet, reflector lights and all, so I could bike into Gort or Kinvarra, or walk, but my apprehension lies with the busy roads I would have to take--very narrow, high hedges, winding, and rather crazy Irish drivers. There is no way I would use the roads once it got dark or during a busy time of day. I've been offered rides by neighbors, can take a taxi (but it'a very expensive), and can coordinate a few options to get me into Galway--bike, taxi, bus, the person picking up the eggs.... So I'm in this amazing area but I'm not sure how much of it I will see. Today I pretty much got to know the house and animals and didn't get further than the postbox. I guess I have plenty of food and DVDs to last me the next two weeks.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Finishing the Dingle Way
I finished the Dingle Way on Thursday afternoon after a very long walk along Ireland's longest stretch of beach, from Cloghane to Castlegregory, which was just under 20 miles. My feet happily welcomed the cushy sand surface after all of the road walking and I did a bit of it barefoot, trying to avoid getting my shoes wet and to let my feet breathe (they ended up developing rather painful blisters and were almost feeling bruised from the pavement pounding and the weight of my backpack).
The day before I walked from Ballydavid to Cloghane, a walk which turned out to be by far the most difficult. This was a very mountainous walk with steep ascents and descents, traversing around Mount Brandon. The most difficult part was the descent which was quite muddy and with my backpack any wrong step threw me off balance causing me to slip many times. Eventually I just slid down the slippery parts on my butt and became covered in mud.
All the while a stray dog was with me, started following me in Ballydavid and stayed with me for over ten miles. It was a small dog about the size of a fox, very friendly, except when I kept falling and there were no sheep to chase it started to nip at my ankles and bark at me. This of course completely freaked me out and seeing that there was no one around I imagined how this dog could completely maul me if it wanted to. Of course it was harmless but it's amazing how quickly cute little dogs can turn into threatening predators! I began singing Sound of Music songs at the top of my lungs to give the impression to the dog that I was not weak prey and to keep my spirits up during what seemed like an endless downward trail into nothing. I could see no towns, no people, no roads, nothing.
I did have amazing views on top of the cliffs and the sea all around of what looked like an enchanted land. Anyway, I made it to Brandon and began looking for a B&B to rest my weary self and discovered that there was no accomodation until the next town, Cloghane, which was only a mile away. (It was here that the little dog and I parted ways--I walked into a pub to ask a question and when I came back out it was gone. I was a little relieved but also a bit sad because I really did enjoy it's company.) Well, five miles later (everything seems to be a mile away) in Colghane, at about 9pm, I found a B&B and the woman running the place was kind enough to phone one of the two pubs that was serving food for a few more minutes and asked them to make me something when I got there. But she said I'd have to go over straight away.
So I went in my muddy and ripped rainpants and ordered a burger. There were 2 people sitting in the pub, an American woman and a Belgian man, that invited me to sit and eat with them. As I sat down I was thinking how I hadn't stretched yet and how much pain I would be in once my body cooled down and settled in. My pants had ripped in the knees from falling on rocks. I find it rather amazing that after all of that, all I got were some minor bruises and scrapes. I still have a couple of thorns to get out of my fingertips. Anyway, these two had met in Dingle and were walking the way together. She was getting her luggage carted from one place to the next in a van, something that most people walking the way do. They were both going back to their respective homes the next day. It was nice getting to chat with people after such a crazy day and found it a bit odd that this was the first American I had come across the entire time I'd been in Ireland. It was comforting to hear an American accent but at the same time I found her a bit strange--I think I had gotten used to speaking to people with accents and broken English. She offered to drop off her extra Odwalla bars in the morning before she left.
The next day I took a rest, almost fearful of how my body was going to take the day before. A rest was just what I needed because the next day I felt almost as good as new--the only thing bothering me were my blisters--that and I was beginning to worry that I was getting too much sun. It wasn't exactly sunny but I guess the salt air and wind and all that it can be like being under a magnifying glass. My lips were beginning to burn when I drank tea.
When I finally got to Castlegregory (and I admit I cheated a bit, I got a ride the last 5 miles from a Belgian kite-surfing instructor that probably felt sorry for me as I walked along the busy road with rain and wind whipping me around), I again decided to treat myself to a B&B and found that a Dutch student and an older Dutch couple that had started the way the same day as I had and who I'd seen off and on walking almost the entire time were staying at the B&B as well. An American couple from NY that I hadn't met had just finished too. They were all planning to go out to eat and celebrate finishing the walk and invited me along. (And actually, according to my book, the walk takes you back to Tralee, the town where the walk officially begins, but for the most part everyone seemed done at Castlegregory, 17 miles from Tralee.) We had a marvelous time and I learned of many other great walks from the American couple, in their late 50s, who do a two-week walk every summer for their vacation. They recommended a walk in the Dolomites that takes you to Venice that sounded awesome. I told everyone about the dog that followed me and the NY couple said that the same dog followed them for a while and they named it Fritz. The older Dutch couple was very lively, friendly, and energetic company and the man took pictures of the whole evening, getting up on benches at the pub for some great shots. Perhaps I can post some when he emails them to me.
Luckily enough on Fridays there is a bus from Castlegregory to Tralee where I needed to catch another bus to Limerick to pick up my suitcase and then another bus to Gort where I'd be doing the pet-sitting. Getting on the bus there popped up the Dutch mother and her two daughters. We were all excited to see each other and they said they had been talking about me and wondering what had happened to me because they hadn't seen me in a while. We got all caught up on the walk and the things we did. I told them about the dog and the Dutch woman said that her friends that did the Dingle Way two years ago had the same experience, that the dog followed them the entire way! I showed her a picture of the dog on my camera and she said it was the same dog. It is the Dingle Dog.
We all parted at the bus station, the Dutch student headed to Cork for his flight home, I to Limerick and the rest were staying in Tralee for the night before returning home. It was a bit sad for everyone to think that the walk was over and we had to go back to civilization. There is such simplicity in walking day to day from place to place. It brings your life down to the essentials, to what is true and real. And the people you meet are in the same mindset, surrounded by nature day in day out and are stripped to what is essentially human. No distractions, for the most part, just living truly human. You really start to feel like your best self, your most alive self doing this. It can be addicting. You can be in total isolation with never having felt more connected to people. It's odd. But I'm sure anyone that has spent time in nature and the wilderness knows what I'm talking about. It is very peaceful and you have very little fear of what is to come or what has come before. You are very much in the present. This has been quite a contrast to my little urban encounters that I had before arriving in Ireland.
Well, now I'm beginning my first pet-sitting operation and will give a more detailed post perhaps tomorrow. Need to round the chickens up and make sure the rabbits and guinea pigs are safe and sound....
The day before I walked from Ballydavid to Cloghane, a walk which turned out to be by far the most difficult. This was a very mountainous walk with steep ascents and descents, traversing around Mount Brandon. The most difficult part was the descent which was quite muddy and with my backpack any wrong step threw me off balance causing me to slip many times. Eventually I just slid down the slippery parts on my butt and became covered in mud.
All the while a stray dog was with me, started following me in Ballydavid and stayed with me for over ten miles. It was a small dog about the size of a fox, very friendly, except when I kept falling and there were no sheep to chase it started to nip at my ankles and bark at me. This of course completely freaked me out and seeing that there was no one around I imagined how this dog could completely maul me if it wanted to. Of course it was harmless but it's amazing how quickly cute little dogs can turn into threatening predators! I began singing Sound of Music songs at the top of my lungs to give the impression to the dog that I was not weak prey and to keep my spirits up during what seemed like an endless downward trail into nothing. I could see no towns, no people, no roads, nothing.
I did have amazing views on top of the cliffs and the sea all around of what looked like an enchanted land. Anyway, I made it to Brandon and began looking for a B&B to rest my weary self and discovered that there was no accomodation until the next town, Cloghane, which was only a mile away. (It was here that the little dog and I parted ways--I walked into a pub to ask a question and when I came back out it was gone. I was a little relieved but also a bit sad because I really did enjoy it's company.) Well, five miles later (everything seems to be a mile away) in Colghane, at about 9pm, I found a B&B and the woman running the place was kind enough to phone one of the two pubs that was serving food for a few more minutes and asked them to make me something when I got there. But she said I'd have to go over straight away.
So I went in my muddy and ripped rainpants and ordered a burger. There were 2 people sitting in the pub, an American woman and a Belgian man, that invited me to sit and eat with them. As I sat down I was thinking how I hadn't stretched yet and how much pain I would be in once my body cooled down and settled in. My pants had ripped in the knees from falling on rocks. I find it rather amazing that after all of that, all I got were some minor bruises and scrapes. I still have a couple of thorns to get out of my fingertips. Anyway, these two had met in Dingle and were walking the way together. She was getting her luggage carted from one place to the next in a van, something that most people walking the way do. They were both going back to their respective homes the next day. It was nice getting to chat with people after such a crazy day and found it a bit odd that this was the first American I had come across the entire time I'd been in Ireland. It was comforting to hear an American accent but at the same time I found her a bit strange--I think I had gotten used to speaking to people with accents and broken English. She offered to drop off her extra Odwalla bars in the morning before she left.
The next day I took a rest, almost fearful of how my body was going to take the day before. A rest was just what I needed because the next day I felt almost as good as new--the only thing bothering me were my blisters--that and I was beginning to worry that I was getting too much sun. It wasn't exactly sunny but I guess the salt air and wind and all that it can be like being under a magnifying glass. My lips were beginning to burn when I drank tea.
When I finally got to Castlegregory (and I admit I cheated a bit, I got a ride the last 5 miles from a Belgian kite-surfing instructor that probably felt sorry for me as I walked along the busy road with rain and wind whipping me around), I again decided to treat myself to a B&B and found that a Dutch student and an older Dutch couple that had started the way the same day as I had and who I'd seen off and on walking almost the entire time were staying at the B&B as well. An American couple from NY that I hadn't met had just finished too. They were all planning to go out to eat and celebrate finishing the walk and invited me along. (And actually, according to my book, the walk takes you back to Tralee, the town where the walk officially begins, but for the most part everyone seemed done at Castlegregory, 17 miles from Tralee.) We had a marvelous time and I learned of many other great walks from the American couple, in their late 50s, who do a two-week walk every summer for their vacation. They recommended a walk in the Dolomites that takes you to Venice that sounded awesome. I told everyone about the dog that followed me and the NY couple said that the same dog followed them for a while and they named it Fritz. The older Dutch couple was very lively, friendly, and energetic company and the man took pictures of the whole evening, getting up on benches at the pub for some great shots. Perhaps I can post some when he emails them to me.
Luckily enough on Fridays there is a bus from Castlegregory to Tralee where I needed to catch another bus to Limerick to pick up my suitcase and then another bus to Gort where I'd be doing the pet-sitting. Getting on the bus there popped up the Dutch mother and her two daughters. We were all excited to see each other and they said they had been talking about me and wondering what had happened to me because they hadn't seen me in a while. We got all caught up on the walk and the things we did. I told them about the dog and the Dutch woman said that her friends that did the Dingle Way two years ago had the same experience, that the dog followed them the entire way! I showed her a picture of the dog on my camera and she said it was the same dog. It is the Dingle Dog.
We all parted at the bus station, the Dutch student headed to Cork for his flight home, I to Limerick and the rest were staying in Tralee for the night before returning home. It was a bit sad for everyone to think that the walk was over and we had to go back to civilization. There is such simplicity in walking day to day from place to place. It brings your life down to the essentials, to what is true and real. And the people you meet are in the same mindset, surrounded by nature day in day out and are stripped to what is essentially human. No distractions, for the most part, just living truly human. You really start to feel like your best self, your most alive self doing this. It can be addicting. You can be in total isolation with never having felt more connected to people. It's odd. But I'm sure anyone that has spent time in nature and the wilderness knows what I'm talking about. It is very peaceful and you have very little fear of what is to come or what has come before. You are very much in the present. This has been quite a contrast to my little urban encounters that I had before arriving in Ireland.
Well, now I'm beginning my first pet-sitting operation and will give a more detailed post perhaps tomorrow. Need to round the chickens up and make sure the rabbits and guinea pigs are safe and sound....
Saturday, July 19, 2008
On the Dingle Way...
I have spent the last three days now walking the Dingle Way, a waymarked way of 112 miles around the Dingle Peninsula. If you look at a map of Ireland, you'll see the little peninsulas dangling off the SW of the island. Dingle is the one at the top. Below Dingle is the Iveragh Peninsula, where my friend and I walked the Kerry Way two summers ago, and below that is the Beara Peninsula, where I walked the Beara Way that same summer. I love these walks because it slows down your pace of travel and exposes you to people and places that you would normally overlook. Not to mention you have heavenly scenery the entire time. I picked Ireland in the first place because I figured it would be a safe place to travel as a woman travelling alone.
So, for my walk so far, starting in Tralee, I walked 12 miles to a village called Camp, which is made up of a pub, gas station, and B&B. After a beautiful (luckily sunny) day of walking along the Slieve Mountains, I was warmly welcomed everywhere I went and reminded again why I love Ireland so. The next day I headed another 12 miles to Annascul, a village famous for being the final resting place of Tom Crean, an explorer who was part of Shackleton's Antarctic voyage and responsible for coming up with the idea of eating the dogs they had with them rather than starve to death, among other things. In between was a stop at Inch Strand, a beautiful beach. Yesterday I walked another 12 miles to Dingle. This walk was a bit more difficult as it was raining for most of it and I missed one of the markers, made a wrong turn, and spent half the day just following roads on my map to make it to my destination. I ended up in a maze of country roads that led around sheep and cattle farms and was guided by a kind lady in a direction that took me through a road that consisted of mud and manure. To get through it as best as I could I ended up grabbing onto the hedges and was stung numerous times by the stinging nettles, something I'm starting to get used to.
Needless to say, I made it to Dingle and decided it would be best to take a day of rest as my body was beginning to feel a bit broken down from my backpack and walking on tarmac roads. Dingle is a very lively town with music nightly at what seems to be every pub in town and enjoys high levels of tourism. They have a town mascot named Fungi, a dolphin that hangs out in the bay (I have yet to see it, however). I prefer the small villages with less tourists and more locals, but it's good to mix it up and the scenery is beautiful, of course.
It's been neat walking and running into the same walkers in each town that are on the same schedule/route as I. So far, they've all been Dutch. A woman with her two grown daughters have been very friendly--they are camping along the way, something that I'd like to do if I was walking with a group. But they said the other night they were attacked by deer ticks and midges. For now I'm comfortable sleeping indoors and after being outside all day with the elements it feels like a luxury to return to civilization. Not that I'm in the middle of nowhere in Papua New Guinea or anything, but just far enough outside of my comfort zone to make me feel cut off temporarily from creature comforts--a great way to clear your mind and regain perspective.
Tomorrow I walk to Dunquin and would like to spend the next five days walking if all goes well.
So, for my walk so far, starting in Tralee, I walked 12 miles to a village called Camp, which is made up of a pub, gas station, and B&B. After a beautiful (luckily sunny) day of walking along the Slieve Mountains, I was warmly welcomed everywhere I went and reminded again why I love Ireland so. The next day I headed another 12 miles to Annascul, a village famous for being the final resting place of Tom Crean, an explorer who was part of Shackleton's Antarctic voyage and responsible for coming up with the idea of eating the dogs they had with them rather than starve to death, among other things. In between was a stop at Inch Strand, a beautiful beach. Yesterday I walked another 12 miles to Dingle. This walk was a bit more difficult as it was raining for most of it and I missed one of the markers, made a wrong turn, and spent half the day just following roads on my map to make it to my destination. I ended up in a maze of country roads that led around sheep and cattle farms and was guided by a kind lady in a direction that took me through a road that consisted of mud and manure. To get through it as best as I could I ended up grabbing onto the hedges and was stung numerous times by the stinging nettles, something I'm starting to get used to.
Needless to say, I made it to Dingle and decided it would be best to take a day of rest as my body was beginning to feel a bit broken down from my backpack and walking on tarmac roads. Dingle is a very lively town with music nightly at what seems to be every pub in town and enjoys high levels of tourism. They have a town mascot named Fungi, a dolphin that hangs out in the bay (I have yet to see it, however). I prefer the small villages with less tourists and more locals, but it's good to mix it up and the scenery is beautiful, of course.
It's been neat walking and running into the same walkers in each town that are on the same schedule/route as I. So far, they've all been Dutch. A woman with her two grown daughters have been very friendly--they are camping along the way, something that I'd like to do if I was walking with a group. But they said the other night they were attacked by deer ticks and midges. For now I'm comfortable sleeping indoors and after being outside all day with the elements it feels like a luxury to return to civilization. Not that I'm in the middle of nowhere in Papua New Guinea or anything, but just far enough outside of my comfort zone to make me feel cut off temporarily from creature comforts--a great way to clear your mind and regain perspective.
Tomorrow I walk to Dunquin and would like to spend the next five days walking if all goes well.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
the English Riviera, setting out to walk the Dingle in Ireland
Since I've last written, I did some exploring around Torquay, part of an area nicknamed the English Riviera, and headed to Tralee, Ireland, where I am now preparing to walk the Dingle Peninsula starting tomorrow.
This past Saturday, I found myself on my own; I decided to hang back from a trip east my friends took to visit relatives (niece's birthday party and all). I decided to venture over to the fishing village of Brixham instead, reached via ferry from the Torquay Harbour. On my way to catch the ferry, I stopped in a juice bar to fix my low blood sugar and tide me over til a late seafood lunch in the village. Well, they had wheat grass shots as well as juice and since I hadn't been getting my share of daily veggies I thought that'd be the healthy thing to do. I was fine until the ferry ride over. Wheat grass on an empty stomach is not a good idea. I passed back and forth between thinking that I was going to throw up or float off the boat. Never before had I had a reaction to wheat grass like this before. I was really rather terrified that I was going to be vomiting over the side, all on my own, with everyone staring at me! Once I got to Brixham I was desperate to find a place to eat and get rid of my floaty sick feeling that made me feel like I was on another planet. So after realizing that every proper restaurant serving lunch was closed til dinner, I got take-away fish and chips that were probably the best and greasiest I've ever had. Definitely filled my fish and chips quota for the year, like most of the people that seemed to live in this town, identified by a uniform of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Although I can't say I did more than walk up and down the tacky tourist strip and eat my greasy meal, I'm pretty sure I won't return to this town. It was interesting to see, and I later learned that it is the major fishing port delivering fish to all of England, has a place in history, etc. Maybe my wheat grass-induced haze tainted the whole experience a bit.
Monday was another long day of travel. I spent the day in Exeter with my friend and her great-aunts, had a nice lunch, and five hours of travel later, was boarding my plane, another delayed RyanAir flight, to Shannon, Ireland. I had a warm welcome at customs and in a conversation about the weather with the customs officer, I related how sunny and warm it had been when I was visiting two summers ago--he said that was the last time the sun's been out. I won't bore you with the details, as I perhaps have already given too many above, so in a nutshell, I ended up staying in Shannon for the night at a hotel with a Chinese restaurant and pub. From what I saw, Shannon is a sprawling suburb, a bit of a disappointment compared to my romantic memories of quaint Irish villages. I was warned by the Lonely Planet of this, anyhow, but too afraid to end up in Limerick or some other unknown after dark. I ended up chatting with a father and daughter traveling from Tuscon, of all places, and the father works at the same university as my uncle. Small world. As the drunk Irish men hit on his daughter, just out of high school, he kept saying how great all of this was, that he was so glad she was finally getting to talk to locals. It was a nice time in a rather bizarre situation. (And I immediately sent my hot and sour soup back to the Chinese restaurant upon its resemblance to an unknown brown goop.)
Made my way to Tralee today. It's a pretty nice little Irish town, very colorful and cheery. Overall I feel very at ease being back in Ireland. There is something about this country that is very soothing. The scenery, the people, the pace--it's funny how different it feels compared to England while being so close. I am really looking forward to walking the Dingle Peninsula. Parts of the film Far and Away were filmed here, as well as some others. I got my maps today, left my ridiculous roll-aboard at the luggage check in Limerick, and am set to go.
I apologize for the lack of photos, I never end up bringing my camera to the internet cafes! But promise to get some photos on here soon.
Hope all is well with everyone. I enjoy the comments!
This past Saturday, I found myself on my own; I decided to hang back from a trip east my friends took to visit relatives (niece's birthday party and all). I decided to venture over to the fishing village of Brixham instead, reached via ferry from the Torquay Harbour. On my way to catch the ferry, I stopped in a juice bar to fix my low blood sugar and tide me over til a late seafood lunch in the village. Well, they had wheat grass shots as well as juice and since I hadn't been getting my share of daily veggies I thought that'd be the healthy thing to do. I was fine until the ferry ride over. Wheat grass on an empty stomach is not a good idea. I passed back and forth between thinking that I was going to throw up or float off the boat. Never before had I had a reaction to wheat grass like this before. I was really rather terrified that I was going to be vomiting over the side, all on my own, with everyone staring at me! Once I got to Brixham I was desperate to find a place to eat and get rid of my floaty sick feeling that made me feel like I was on another planet. So after realizing that every proper restaurant serving lunch was closed til dinner, I got take-away fish and chips that were probably the best and greasiest I've ever had. Definitely filled my fish and chips quota for the year, like most of the people that seemed to live in this town, identified by a uniform of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Although I can't say I did more than walk up and down the tacky tourist strip and eat my greasy meal, I'm pretty sure I won't return to this town. It was interesting to see, and I later learned that it is the major fishing port delivering fish to all of England, has a place in history, etc. Maybe my wheat grass-induced haze tainted the whole experience a bit.
Monday was another long day of travel. I spent the day in Exeter with my friend and her great-aunts, had a nice lunch, and five hours of travel later, was boarding my plane, another delayed RyanAir flight, to Shannon, Ireland. I had a warm welcome at customs and in a conversation about the weather with the customs officer, I related how sunny and warm it had been when I was visiting two summers ago--he said that was the last time the sun's been out. I won't bore you with the details, as I perhaps have already given too many above, so in a nutshell, I ended up staying in Shannon for the night at a hotel with a Chinese restaurant and pub. From what I saw, Shannon is a sprawling suburb, a bit of a disappointment compared to my romantic memories of quaint Irish villages. I was warned by the Lonely Planet of this, anyhow, but too afraid to end up in Limerick or some other unknown after dark. I ended up chatting with a father and daughter traveling from Tuscon, of all places, and the father works at the same university as my uncle. Small world. As the drunk Irish men hit on his daughter, just out of high school, he kept saying how great all of this was, that he was so glad she was finally getting to talk to locals. It was a nice time in a rather bizarre situation. (And I immediately sent my hot and sour soup back to the Chinese restaurant upon its resemblance to an unknown brown goop.)
Made my way to Tralee today. It's a pretty nice little Irish town, very colorful and cheery. Overall I feel very at ease being back in Ireland. There is something about this country that is very soothing. The scenery, the people, the pace--it's funny how different it feels compared to England while being so close. I am really looking forward to walking the Dingle Peninsula. Parts of the film Far and Away were filmed here, as well as some others. I got my maps today, left my ridiculous roll-aboard at the luggage check in Limerick, and am set to go.
I apologize for the lack of photos, I never end up bringing my camera to the internet cafes! But promise to get some photos on here soon.
Hope all is well with everyone. I enjoy the comments!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
safe and sound in Torquay
My second day in Berlin was much better than the first. Great weather and I felt rather oriented to the city layout after getting lost constantly the day before. I walked to the Brandenburg Gate and found that there was a huge celebration going on in honor of the opening of the US Embassy. There was a big stage with red white and blue balloons and a big American flag and some people singing sort of old-time classic American tunes. Just beyond the gate, lies Berlin's park, which is rather large, and held booths which lined the main pathway advertising American cars, trips, hamburgers, etc. It all seemed very bizarre to me, especially after feeling so lost, and seemed to hint at the everthing-American aspect infiltrating the entire world.
My favorite part of Berlin was seeing how there seems to be a cafe stuck anywhere and everywhere--underneath the train tracks, on the other side of the Berlin Wall in some of the small spaces along the river, many with beach chairs, sand, and palm trees to boot. All in all, it was a very exciting city and I'd definitely like to go back--it seems to be growing and expanding by the second and it will be interesting to see what it's like in 30 years or even five. The Brits that I spoke to at the hostel all seemed to want to move there and get away from the fast-pace of London where, according to them, it's all work work work go go go where no one has time to just sit in a cafe and sip a cup of tea.
From Berlin I flew into the London Standsted airport (it is actually much cheaper to fly, around 30 euros, rather than take the train or ferry). I've found the trains to be extremely expensive although I much prefer them to any other sort of travel (besides walking). Unfortunately flying on such a discount there's always a catch. My plane was quite delayed (and once aboard it seemed like one long television commercial trying to sell you stuff) and I ended up at the airport rather late. Instead of having a Berlin repeat, I decided to stay at an airport hotel--way too much money but worth my sanity and a good night's sleep.
I got into London the next day and once again showed up in a city with no guidebook, map or reservation. I have found this past week that I had gotten way too comfortable in my routine at home with instant access to everything with the internet, cell phone, a car, etc. I suppose I was beginning to expect that things would be easy with everything at my fingertips all the time. I've traveled extensively around the world, lived in Japan knowing no Japanese--a return visit to the UK seemed like a piece of cake. Not having a working cell phone alone left me feeling extremely lost. (I since have that all figured out, which was quite easy, just went to a phone shop and bought a phone.) So after settling into a hostel (which I was told by a couple of people later that night that it was in the dodgiest part of town, King's Cross, and that I definitely should take a cab at that hour, 10pm) I had some time to ask myself why has this been so hard for me? Did everything just look a lot better on paper? Am I getting too old for this? I think it's a combination, but all in all I feel very fortunate that I've been put in this situation because I've found that I've gotten very rusty at being an adventurous traveller.
So after having a beer at the Lamb and Flag, a pub that's 350 years old and was a hangout of Charles Dickens, where they have live jazz on Sundays, I made it safely back to my hostel in a taxi. The taxi driver warned me to keep my head down when we get into King's Cross, go straight into my hostel, and check out as soon as possible the next day. I was just a little bit freaked out and had to ask myself why was I doing everything so naively and making things so hard for myself?!
The next day I checked out of the hostel and met with the home/pet-owner (a fellow midwesterner from Madison) in Camden for a look at her flat and animals and a nice lunch out in her neighborhood. Everything about the whole situation felt right and I'm really looking forward to taking care of things in August.
Now I've made my way to Torquay for a stopover and visit with friends before I head to Ireland. It is raining out, thus the opportunity to get this lengthy blog in.
One thing I have to say is how impressed I am with the quality of food here, both eating out and in grocery stores. There is organic everything, local, grass-fed beef advertised everywhere. And even with the weak dollar, things do not seem to be that much more expensive than they are at home (even after £4 one-way tube ticket I learned my lesson that you get an Oyster card that allows one to travel for £1 per ride--still not cheap, but manageable). So there are ways to not completely bust your bank, something that I was a bit afraid of. People are also talking about how the UK economy's fall is not far behind the US's, that everything that happens in the US trickles over here as well. I was just reading in the paper earlier the concern with childhood obesity and school/hospital lunches. The world is getting smaller and smaller.
My favorite part of Berlin was seeing how there seems to be a cafe stuck anywhere and everywhere--underneath the train tracks, on the other side of the Berlin Wall in some of the small spaces along the river, many with beach chairs, sand, and palm trees to boot. All in all, it was a very exciting city and I'd definitely like to go back--it seems to be growing and expanding by the second and it will be interesting to see what it's like in 30 years or even five. The Brits that I spoke to at the hostel all seemed to want to move there and get away from the fast-pace of London where, according to them, it's all work work work go go go where no one has time to just sit in a cafe and sip a cup of tea.
From Berlin I flew into the London Standsted airport (it is actually much cheaper to fly, around 30 euros, rather than take the train or ferry). I've found the trains to be extremely expensive although I much prefer them to any other sort of travel (besides walking). Unfortunately flying on such a discount there's always a catch. My plane was quite delayed (and once aboard it seemed like one long television commercial trying to sell you stuff) and I ended up at the airport rather late. Instead of having a Berlin repeat, I decided to stay at an airport hotel--way too much money but worth my sanity and a good night's sleep.
I got into London the next day and once again showed up in a city with no guidebook, map or reservation. I have found this past week that I had gotten way too comfortable in my routine at home with instant access to everything with the internet, cell phone, a car, etc. I suppose I was beginning to expect that things would be easy with everything at my fingertips all the time. I've traveled extensively around the world, lived in Japan knowing no Japanese--a return visit to the UK seemed like a piece of cake. Not having a working cell phone alone left me feeling extremely lost. (I since have that all figured out, which was quite easy, just went to a phone shop and bought a phone.) So after settling into a hostel (which I was told by a couple of people later that night that it was in the dodgiest part of town, King's Cross, and that I definitely should take a cab at that hour, 10pm) I had some time to ask myself why has this been so hard for me? Did everything just look a lot better on paper? Am I getting too old for this? I think it's a combination, but all in all I feel very fortunate that I've been put in this situation because I've found that I've gotten very rusty at being an adventurous traveller.
So after having a beer at the Lamb and Flag, a pub that's 350 years old and was a hangout of Charles Dickens, where they have live jazz on Sundays, I made it safely back to my hostel in a taxi. The taxi driver warned me to keep my head down when we get into King's Cross, go straight into my hostel, and check out as soon as possible the next day. I was just a little bit freaked out and had to ask myself why was I doing everything so naively and making things so hard for myself?!
The next day I checked out of the hostel and met with the home/pet-owner (a fellow midwesterner from Madison) in Camden for a look at her flat and animals and a nice lunch out in her neighborhood. Everything about the whole situation felt right and I'm really looking forward to taking care of things in August.
Now I've made my way to Torquay for a stopover and visit with friends before I head to Ireland. It is raining out, thus the opportunity to get this lengthy blog in.
One thing I have to say is how impressed I am with the quality of food here, both eating out and in grocery stores. There is organic everything, local, grass-fed beef advertised everywhere. And even with the weak dollar, things do not seem to be that much more expensive than they are at home (even after £4 one-way tube ticket I learned my lesson that you get an Oyster card that allows one to travel for £1 per ride--still not cheap, but manageable). So there are ways to not completely bust your bank, something that I was a bit afraid of. People are also talking about how the UK economy's fall is not far behind the US's, that everything that happens in the US trickles over here as well. I was just reading in the paper earlier the concern with childhood obesity and school/hospital lunches. The world is getting smaller and smaller.
Friday, July 4, 2008
happy travels
All in all my travels have been going well, but I was about to lose it a few times during this segway of breaking off from my family trip and going off on my own. I took a train from Paris to Ulm, Germany, yesterday to meet with the woman whose dog I was going to watch while she was back and forth in Berlin and I have to day, I just got a pit in my stomach and couldn't do it. I almost stayed on the train to go to Munich, but I got off and headed to a cafe for a glass of wine. It was so depressing to see chain after chain and ugliness everywhere. I was coming from what I truly believe is the most beautiful city in the world, Paris, and just could not imagine myself in this place (not to mention that if I had accepted this pet-sitting situation I could not be gone for longer than 2 to 3 hours or after dark plus the lady was coming across as rather harsh in her emails--red flags??). So I got on the next train to Berlin and didn't arrive until after midnight. I thought I knew European cities well and could just get off and find a hotel. Not the case. Berlin is very spread out. I got off the train and felt like I was in the middle of nowhere. But after picking up a random brochure in the train station for a hostel and giving it to the cab driver, I made it to the Odesse Globetrotter hostel. There were no beds but I was able to get a no-show's bed at 2am. I think the guy behind the counter felt sorry for me and could tell that I was probably going to get mugged if I continued to walk the streets of Berlin with luggage in tow. A bit strung out? You could say so. And while I was waiting, I had a lovely conversation with two Australians that were telling stories that are much too inappropriate to retell. But they made it clear that Berlin is for partying. It does seem to have quite the nightlife but I unfortunately will not be able to enjoy it. After my night last night I ended up with a splitting headache all day today and felt like I was floating around on another planet. Lost myself walking around the city all day in the rain. I swear the streets kept morphing into new streets and I could not use my map properly. I wanted to find the Brandenburg entrance and checkpoint charlie, but could not find it with my street reading impairment. I started out going the complete wrong way and almost walked out of the city limits. This seems to happen to me from time to time. Lots of graffiti, not many pedestrians, lots of kebab places. But I had just thought, hey, I'll walk along the river, this will be nice. Not quite. I started praying that I would not be mugged and left on the side of the road. But I found my way to the U-bahn that could take me to the center of things. More shops, chains, ugliness. I kept wondering what people thought was so great about this city? It felt like Bladerunner's wannabe cousin. But I kept walking and walking and did see some really neat parts of town. And one of the craziest things was all the cranes everywhere. I had heard this before, but it truly is the case. Anyway, I saw a lot today. The city is very spread out which surprised me. I'm used to cities in Europe being centered around either side of the river that runs through it. This was not the case. So all in all, I did not see the sites of Berlin, nor did I experience the crazy nightlife everyone seems to be raving about--all these über-hipsters everywhere. And then there's the girl at the hostel that seems to carry a bag of fruit around with her all day and sit at various tables sketching. But who knows. This has been one weird day and I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep.
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