i'm hanging for some chips, boy!

SHE LIVES! She blogs!

This is about how I feel about attempting to sum up my time in Ireland in one blog post:

But here I go:

10 days in Ireland
3 (min) amount of words a Cork person can say in the time it takes us to say one
2 hours spent sitting on the Bridewell Garda Station steps waiting for Craig
0 Craigs that were released from the Garda Station
1 fake roses bought for me and Jessy to unify the yankees and southerners
1 fried cods left in glove compartments
2 hours taken for Aofie to straighten Jesse’s fro

1 extremely friendly rooster at Looney’s B&B
1 dead body covered w/a blanket at Galway Bus Station [disturbing]
12 other people in our hostel room
5 French people staying in our hostel
1 Swedish guy who looked like a young, blond, Alan Rickman [Jesse’s]
3 traditional music sessions we saw
1 new pairs of shoes bought as mine developed massive holes in the soles

2 nights that are a bit hazy in my memory [and on my camera for that matter]

1 cool Australian / zombie [mine]
100+ Irish guys who thought drag was the best Halloween costume idea
800 (max) amount of people who live on Inis Mór
2 close encounters with cows

moo, lassie

12 miles walked all over the island
10 words I can say in Irish, as taught by cool old man at pub
3 pubs on Inis Mór, total
1 extremely saucy bartender
5 hours from Galway to Dublin with traffic
1 “hostel” that actually had a room for us
1.5 days spent in Dublin, sadly
1 night spent “sleeping” in the airport
60 est. number pints of Bullmer’s Cider consumed

10 est. number of pints I bought for myself or others
50 kilos of potato products consumed [curry chips! tayto crisps!]

EQUALS:

1,102.5 good reasons to go back to Ireland. ASAP.

So I will say, Ireland is everything I hoped it would be. The Irish, not to be stereotypical or anything, were overwhelmingly friendly, generous, talkative (somehow without getting anything done for all the talking. for hours!!!), hilarious, warm, gentle, cheery, prone to public displays of drunkenness, and occasionally v. violent. Ireland was cold and fresh and bright green from the minute we stepped off the plane onto the tarmac, there was good music on every street corner and pouring out of pubs each night, there were pubs on every block, chip and fish stops stayed open all hours of the night, and there were bookshops and used bookstores everywhere. I realize that no place is perfect, but Ireland, for me at least, I think comes as close as anywhere to an ideal place to live. It was, in a word, well…

Grand.

Check out the rest of my photos here (might I recommend the slideshow?)

They are definitely worth 1,000 words. Or 1,102.5. Also, I have some amusing videos but have not figured out how to post them yet. Check back and I may have them up. And I’ll definitely have updates on my not-so-thrilling life back in France. I’m working on a little number called The Carte Bleu blues.

[sneak-preview of chorus: it ate my caaaa-aaard.... now i ain't got no dooooough.....]