We got up early this morning to grab breakfast, jump in a rental car, and drive to Cork in the South of Ireland. We loaded up the packs and made our way toward Trinity where we thought the rental car place was located. After not finding the place for 15 minutes, my pack started to gain a few pounds every minute. By the time we found Thrifty, with a little help from the whelp working at the nearest Internet Cafe, I was carrying at least 900 pounds.
On a weird, but related, tangent, the super-heavy pack seems to help my hip problem. I have a slightly shifted right hip due to a nasty skateboard fall. It has caused all sorts of issues. Anyway, the weight of the backpack sitting on that hip has forced it to shift in the correct direction. It's fairly painful and causes weird shooting pains but so far I feel a hell of a lot better (when not wearing the pack of course).
The car we got was a tiny VW golf with a manual transmission. The combination of a right-situated steering wheel (gotta switch hands to drive stick) and driving on the left side of the road has been...fun. Luckily, I haven't had to try my hand yet but my mom assures me it's harder than it seems. You are fighting every instinct you have behind the wheel. At least the pedals are still the same. Maybe I'll just stick to navigating.
The madre driving us (even being lefty wasn't helping the driving situation much).
We had no plan as to where we were going to try to end up so we just drove toward Cork (why not?). On the way we stopped all over the place. The unfortunate but constant "showery" weather made the trip more difficult than need be but the countryside is nice to look at. They weren't joking when they said Ireland is the Emerald Isle. It's the greenest place I've ever seen. There's nothing but green for as far as you can see. There's a scant house or farm but generally nothing between the little towns and villages.
At one particular stop, the Moone High Cross Inn, John, the proprietor, tried to convince me to stay in Ireland. It's a fast growing country with tons of potential he said. Tech is making a comeback he said. They are hiring like crazy he said. Too bad it's "showery" 12 months of the year. I mean, they do like surfing but that's outweighed by the girls, literally. Did I mention that a third of the young women I see (maybe 18-25?) have babies? Who would impregnate them? It must be their impeccable style (Juicy suits anyone?).
The next significant stop was Ring, in the southern, Irish (Gaelic) speaking part of Ireland. The bartender at Mooney's looked exactly like Will Reppun. Maybe I was one Guinness too deep but he even talked like him. Will, you need to meet this dude. He is your long-lost Irish brother. He's 28, wears a beanie with a brim, served me beer, loves the water/lives by the beach but doesn't really surf, and ends most of his sentences with "ya". Unfortunately, I never got his name and felt weird taking a picture (I think he's the owner's son). I probably sound in the love with the guy. Only as much as I love Will, which on a scale of 1 to 10 is "amazing". Also Andy/Seamus, he lived in IV in SB for a year. Yes, I got his full life story. And no, there was no one else in the bar except for cranky old Irish men watching a soap opera.
Also, surfing is huge in Ireland these days. I should have brought my 7/6 and board from Boston. Too bad that would've taken up my entire backpack. Weak sauce.
Later in the day, we got lost trying to find this Mahon bridge but stumbled across Mahon Falls. It's a misty mountain with three waterfalls flowing into a river in the valley. There are sheep everywhere. We hiked around for an hour or so right up to the falls. Keep in mind, the only way we found this place was by taking a random right of the main road.
It was misting pretty hard (can that even happen?). To be more clear, it was REALLY windy and slightly misty.
This sheep was delicious.
The long day ended in Youghal at Aherne's (highly recommended via Ring). I was so tired and hungry that the couple of pints there did me in. Or maybe it was the Irish coffee. There were a group of elderly people seated next to us, almost too drunk to get up. Apparently one of the women owned the pub across the street. She admired my attack on the whole Sea Bass I was eating (quite thorough job I must admit) and then proceeded to tell me something about Tiger Woods. Irish people are hard to understand. Drunk Irish people are impossible to understand.
Random Thought:
People don't immediately think that my mom is my mom. I know she looks young but comon... I guess moms here look more like moms than mine does. Anywho, made for some awkward moments.
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