And One for the Next One
So Will and I wanted to take Over the Top Tours’ “Celtic Experience” tour, where they take you to cairns, passage tombs, and that sort of neat stuff. By the time we found the brochure, it was too late to call. I put in an e-mail to them, but I got no response. The tour left at 09:00, so we woke up early. The hostel clerk called them for us and spoke incomprehensible English at a rate I couldn’t even imagine beforehand. He said they weren’t running that tour, but they had one of the countryside, “Warwick and Glendalough.” With one hour to spare before the tour left, Will and I booked it.
The tour was fantastic. Our tour guide was a man named Denis. He was a real Irish patriot, and he absolutely fucking hated the British. He veiled his hatred with frequent mentions of the need for reconciliation and peace, but it was a hilariously thin veil. He was great. The tour took us all over Ireland’s gorgeous countryside. There were hills, rivers, and old monasteries galore. It was absolutely beautiful. The lakes at Glendalough were particularly nice. Will and I hiked to the lake a little too quickly, so we just sat by it and listened to music. It was relaxing.
The tour stopped by an old 12th century monastery for St. Kevin. Denis mentioned that St. Kevin’s Day was “June the 3rd.” I looked at my watch, and lo! IT WAS ST. KEVIN’S DAY. As per Denis’ suggestion, we had a beer in his honor. At the lunch stop, Will had a Kilkenny and a tasty beef stew. I had a vegetable lasagna and a Foster’s.
That night, Will and I decided to hit the pubs. We went to the Temple Bar area, and Will picked a pub at random. We met drunk Americans who were super excited to see people who weren’t creepy European guys. We had been looking to make new friends, and I believe my choice quote of the evening was, “Man, creepy European guys make this SO MUCH EASIER.” They were on a pub crawl that took them to the better bars in Dublin – we hitched a ride!
As pub crawl stowaways, we went to a bunch of cool bars, including one with an amusing juxtaposition. The top floor was a classic Irish pub with fiddle music and chilled out Irish people. The bottom floor was a good old fashioned American rager with Beiruit, Flip Cup, and an American flag on the ceiling (seriously). One of the bars the crawl went to had a cover, so we left. We went to some random pub with old Irish people and got bored. When we got back to the hostel, Will passed the hell out and I watched an hour of The Wind That Shakes the Barley before following suit.
In the middle of the night, Will hears this: “Fuck. Fuck! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!” Will had been joking that I would get hit by a bus, and I had a vivid nightmare that I was getting wrecked by a “Guinness Bus,” whatever that is. I wasn’t scared, I was just pissed. I woke up very embarrassed, since I had been screaming all this. Will said he had never heard me that angry before. Ever.
Will’s Corner
Names, they are hard to remember.
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Dear Joe,
It’s cool buddy, just do what you need to do; we’ve got your back.
Love,
Will and Andy
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