“Lucky Bitch”

”You are one lucky bitch… You know that?”

This remark, (made by a lovely (fellow-smartass) Irishman) has thankfully rung quite true and so follows the theme of my travels. Random serendipitous occurrences brought on by some seemingly random phenomena.
Phenomena which the dreamers of the world may refer to as, fate.

I am nearly a week in on my month long venture throughout the bonny regions of Ireland and the UK. The initial week was spent within the city of Dublin, and I can say, without the sheerest thread of doubt, this city has left irrevocable damage on my liver.

And I’m quite okay with it.

I had thought last year that I was no match for the German drinkers, but somehow the Irish have proved far superior. They have without a doubt drank me under the table…
In fact, they drank me under the table, cut a hole in the floorboards, and have thrown me beneath the house.
That’s how class they are.

My initial descent into liver-oblivion began in the seaside town of Clontarf. Cute little town. The kind where the bus driver knows each and every man woman and child that exists in town. I sat in awe watching the driver make small talk with locals as they left.
There was Miss O’Connel, who had just finished off her day at the market… Mr. O’Brian, whom was headed home to his family… and then Mr. O’something… who I’m pretty sure was just wasted.
Could not understand a damn word that man said.

After making small talk of my own with the driver and querying how many cars he’s actually hit while driving (the roads are unbelievably narrow), I made my final stop at a castle where I stayed for the night.

Now, I am a firm believer that the surest way to force ones circadian rhythm into place is via sleeping pills…With that being said, I took my pill and passed out fairly early. Next thing I know, (in just the same fashion as last year) I was abruptly yanked from my dreams and forced into the reality of a shrieking alarm. Yet again I found myself in a mad scramble to retrieve my purse and pants from the nether regions of my room.

The only difference between this incident and the previous Amsterdam commotion, was accompanying humans. Instead of opening the door to find dozens of confused potheads milling around…I opened it to see little old and frantic British people. Each one of them having the look of death thing going on. Apparently smoke alarms are enough to instill the fear of God in Brits.

I followed the trail downstairs, and after having an enriching powwow, we each said our goodbyes and retreated to our quarters for the night.

The next morning my jet-lagged little mind somehow convinced me to skate all the way to my hostel in Smithfield. Mind you, this was not merely a hop, skip and a jump away. No, no, no…That would have been far to easy. This trek took a good two hours (partially due to getting lost), and I found out very quickly that the Irish sidewalks are in no way conducive to skating. I feel, in part, that I was doing the citizens of Dublin a favor providing this free entertainment. How often do they see a random woman traveling down the road on a skateboard, hitting a rough patch and flying through the air? Not too often. That’s how often.
Actually, one of the Irishman had actually said, ”Now, you’re sent here just to test my sanity aren’t you? …Girl comes into Belfast with a skateboard and no idea where she’s going…That just doesn’t happen.”

Too good.

Before jumping the pond, I heard rumor that Ireland was not too well known for their food. I can now safely say that this is in fact…Correct.
In fact, I had even asked a man if there were any places around to have some decent grub. To this he responded., ”Good food?! HAH!”
True story.

This whole trip so far has been filled with little ironies. So much so that it forces one to stop and evaluate how the world functions. The idea that every person you meet serves a function and purpose within your life…The idea that everything truly does happen for a reason.

Prime example:: The other night I had gone out to a pub with some new friends. Genuinely amazing people from all around the world. Among which, we had the lovable man from Jersey (the island), the beer-chant singing Aussie, and even the fantastic Israeli who had the uncanny knack to make anyone his friend. While walking back to the bathroom, I, KlutzMcGee, took a nice mouthful of gravity tripping on a bag. In doing so, I nearly took out a couple of Irishman sitting on the couch. As we all know, past the point of tripping there is no saving face, so I made friends. Come to find out, this guy actually knows people back home. More specifically, he knows the good friends of the guy I had spent all night telling him he looked like.

Random? I thought so.

One more example for you:: Last year I had met a girl in Austria (from Croatia) and we became friends. I find out, just as I am leaving for my trip, that she now lives in Ireland. Specifically? Cork.
One of the only ”plans” I had made for this trip was a flight from London to Cork on the 5th.

And what would you know, that’s her birthday.
Partytime.

Met some great guys yesterday at an awesome pub in Belfast and was introduced to hot whiskey and Irish stew…It was delicious. Would love to write more right now but I just took the ferry from Belfast over to Cairnryan…on a bus towards Glasgow…and I’m feeling a bit woozy. The driver just pulled the bus over to yell at a guy who was listening to his music too loud. I’m crammed next to a little old woman, and need to stop writing because these curvy roads are going to make me sick.

Already got the pre-spew sweats. Goodbye for now!

 

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