I’ve slept for 3 hours.
I’ve had worse, and we’ve got a plane to catch.
Thanks to Prue’s Perfect Pieces in Kal, I had myself a sleeping mask to sort me right out. Its 100% the tits. Bec has been awake for a while, so she is a little more coherent.
I gather my stuff, and we begin moving toward the check in area.
I am a 10/10 zombie right now.
I collect my gear, allow Bec to lead the way, and make my way toward the plane. I honestly don’t remember much about the rest of the time at the airport. We board the plane, and I just konk right out. Oh, one thing I nearly forgot was how insane security was at the airport. The whole place was largely dead, but then you got to security, and it was absolutely chockers.
Thats about it.
I remember being woken up as we landed in Dublin.
I was dribbling. I’ve pretty much dribbled my entire life while sleeping. This one was so good, that I could feel it through my beard. Thats how tired I was. We head to Dublin, which seems to be alive in nearly every way. People everywhere, and there seems to be so much going on, just generally. It feels like a city that is alive and happening.
We decide that we will just head straight and pick up the camper, and leave Dublin city for when we get back from the tour of Ireland. We jump on the bus to head to pick up the van, and it honestly just seems as though everyone is just mates. Some of the accents are so thick, that is honestly just sounds like they’re speaking Gaelic. You’ll pick up bits and pieces, but that is about all. One thing is for sure, they certainly seem to be pretty bloody stern on somethings that I wouldn’t expect.
For instance, this chick tried to jump on the bus with a concession card or something, and Joe, the bus driver (which I learnt, because everyone knew Joe the bus driver) asked for her card to have a better look. Upon inspecting the ticket, he told her that is wasn’t valid and that it wasn’t hers, so she would have to either get off or pay the fare.
She looks like an addict of some description and she just ignores his instruction and heads straight for the seat.
Joe doesn’t move the bus.
In the London, we saw a dude jump a barrier right in front of the attendant, and they literally just flopped their arms in retaliation.
In NYC, we saw people tag through, then open the emergency for their mates in front of the guards, who did nothing.
I have got on the bus with a card that doesn’t work, and they’ve just told me to grab a seat.
Not so in Ireland.
Joe stands his ground and denies this chick a ride on the bus, which is like 2.40 euro, so in the grand scheme of things, really not that much. But, it must be a big deal in Ireland for whatever reason because nobody else seems to care much about what was happening. Finally, the chick got off the bus, and naturally began sending all sorts of anatomical impossible slurs his way, which really just made all the passengers send raised eyebrows to each other with a little smirk to follow. It’s not an ideal situation, but it was a little bit of light entertainment for the afternoon.
She gets off the bus, and then Joe calls the depot to let them know who the chick is, and then they go ahead and tell all the other busses.
Bugger me right?!
Its a bloody bus ride.
She’s not trying to get a free upgrade on the A380. Joe is a hard ass, and everyone has Joe’s back in this whole thing. Moral of the story is, don’t try dick around with how they do things in Ireland.
We reach the Wicked depot, and get talking with Jy, who runs the show here. He’s a super laid back lad, and unsurprisingly, he is from Melbourne. Us Aussies have come back in throngs to haunt the Poms for sending us away. Now, there are equal amounts Australians in Australia, as there are in the UK. Its mental.
From the sounds of things Jy pretty much runs the show for a lot of Wicked. He is a lad. We discover that our new van is a fairly decent upgrade from the last one we had. This is a couple years older, rear doors on both sides, nice and easy to drive and good headlights. We’re already feeling more confident. We even get a kettle too.
We were boiling water for coffees in a pot, with the fry pan on top to try and keep the heat in.
Jy runs us through everything and we get on the road.
I find out that my licence is expired, so it has to go under Bec’s name, but as Jy put it, as long as Bec drives in and out of Wicked, the world is a beautiful place.
So, in the spirit of keeping the world a beautiful place, Bec drives out for us. We get to the petrol station, and then Billy drives. Win win. We load up groceries, and as per usual, for every two suggestions I make for food, one is returned to the shelves. Either for being unnecessary, or unnecessary, and I am never quite sure which one.
We jump on the freeway, and we have been told that you have to do the south of Ireland, so that is what we do. We find some wifi, and plan ourselves a route to go. The first point is Galway, which is on the other side of the country. Even though it is the other side of the country, it is still only 2 hours away. This still does my head in.
So, we mish it to Galway, and find out that the highways here are 120kmh here. Its great. I mean, its not like we don’t do 120 back home anyway, but for it t one legal is kinda nice for a change.
We spend the next two hours driving to Galway. Naturally, it is the motorway, so there aren’t many sights to see. We do, however dodge the toll booths, so we get to dive in the country every now and again. One of the first things that we noticed is that there are hardly any fences in Ireland. There are just all these old stone walls made from what looks like slate just stacked upon each other. Scotland had a little bit like this, but it was all pretty squared off. In Ireland, it seems as though it is all random and a little ad hock.
We arrive in Galway, which is this lovely little town by the beach. All the streets are small and winding through the town centre, littered with pubs left and right. The place isn’t super busy, but it has just enough people wandering it’s streets to give it a little character.
Bec and I wander into O Connor’s Bar, which is this little candle lit dingy bar. I begin my catch up on the blogs, Bec orders our first Irish Guinness, and we listen as the locals chat and laugh among themselves. This one particular bloke is near impossible to understand, and the bar maid is the interpreting for everyone else there. Its hilarious. He literally sounds like a Pirates of the Caribbean character. No joke. It is utter gold. His name is Shaemus, and he is actually a bit of legend. He will help the chick behind the bar out by grabbing the glasses when she is busy, and will hang around when she is closing late. I mean, there is no doubt that he is the mascot for the pub, but is genuinely the newest guy out.
I wrap up blogging and head to bed for some very needed sleep.
Come back tomorrow,