The gcb conquers Ireland without speaking English

One order of Ireland, hold the Irish?

I was quite excited to go to Ireland. One reason, of course, was that I figured I'd have less of a language-barrier with the locals. That was sort of true, but there weren't as many cats as I'd hoped.

First things first: I immediately went to the Guinness Storehouse, did the tour, and had the best Guinness in the world in their 7th-story bar with a panoramic view of Dublin. I almost drank 'To Jamaica!', but this one was definitely for The Legendary Uncle Dave.

I was hyped, too, to be able to see some theatre. I arrived in Dublin in the middle of the Fringe Festival, and I also got a cheap ticket my first night there to see The Importance of Being Earnest at the Abbey Theatre, with a talkback afterwards. That was pretty excellent. My attempts to enjoy the Fringe Fest were less fruitful, but that story is not especially funny, so I'm skipping it.

My hostel in Dublin was significantly less sociable than most. No small part of that was a large number of live-ins from Eastern Europe who were in Dublin to work and save money, not have fun and check out the town. Dublin has become one of the most expensive cities in Europe- the EU has been good to Ireland, I think.

Regardless, I met no one on my first day in Dublin, and my only friend from day 2 was a Welsh fellow named Matthew. We had a fine time, but he was on his way out, so I ended up at a crowded pub listening to live Irish music alone. Everyone around me spoke English, but I couldn't convince myself to talk to anyone. Of course, when I heard 3 Germans chatting away nearby, I immediately introduced myself. So I spent my first night out in an English-speaking country in over 3 months wandering around speaking German with these kids:



Then, the next couple of nights in Dublin I hung out with a pair of ladies from French-speaking Belgium and a couple of friendly French fellows, listening to them speak French until we found music loud enough to preclude talking. Here some of them are, rocking out:



I wandered around Dublin during the days by myself. I saw some museums that were kinda disappointing after Paris, and a bunch of places mentioned in Joyce's books, like Trinity College, St. Stephen's green:



and the River Liffey, pictured here at night:



Oh, I also got this photo of some classic Dublin weather:



The French fellows were renting a car and driving across the entire island to Galway, which was my next destination, and they offered me a ride, which was awesome. The French people I have met all seem determined to convince me that the French aren't as unfriendly as the Americans like to think. On the drive there, I kept falling asleep, but in-between times I saw some of the legendary Irish country-side. You know those photos you see with rock-walls dividing up land everywhere? That's no joke. Apparently, it was the best way to clear the rock-strewn land for farming.

Here's a photo that completely contradicts what I just said, but is otherwise an excellent representation of the Irish countryside:



I was told to go to Galway because it's really pretty, and near both the charming Aran Islands and the fabulous Cliffs of Moher. It turns out, Galway is also the big party-destination in Ireland. How do I do it?

I only really went out one night there, with three other Americans I met in the hostel. They were fun. So was the town- good music, fun people, and crowded bars:



We reached that really fabulous place where the walk home is the best part of the night. We stopped to clown around on a monument, and the locals applauded this performance (I wasn't involved):



The next day I hopped on a bus to check out the local countryside, which included this awesome, ancient tomb:



This was in a landscape so rocky that no building of walls was going to make it farm-worthy. It felt real Irish, so I decided it was time to document my return to my 60%-or-so homeland:



The major highlight of the day, though, was seeing the legendary and picturesque Cliffs of Moher:



I would have taken about 100 pictures of them, but I was distracted by one of those really strange events that you hear about but never expect to happen. I bumped into an old friend up on the cliffs (and no, I'm not talking about tequilla), I'm talking about a fellow Obie. I made Ellie stare straight into the sun for that photo, she was really pleased. I also made her stand on her knees, cuz she's really tall.

That surreal experience lasted for a couple of hours, checking out the cliffs and having lunch before my bus left. It was fun to see a familiar face.

Then it was off to Cork, which was a nice town. I spent most of my time there with a pair of sweet Slovenian cousins, Mojca and Sonja, and an Aussie called Adrian. Here they are, plus some English hippy girl, in Cobh, where the Titanic last touched land:



Cork was nice, I had fun with the people there and walked around the town, but I was not there for very long before I was hopping on a flight to London.

I must return to Ireland sometime and rent a car, just explore the countryside. It's a beautiful place with a long and fascinating history that reveals itself in the everyday, and the people were so warm and welcoming.

London has been different from the rest of my trip in a number of ways, and the epitome of all that is the ridiculous adventures of the gcb in others... but you'll just have to wait until our next episode to hear about it, because I'm sick of typing.