Day 5: Biking around the Dingle Peninsula

The next day dawned with clear skies (or at least, I'm guessing- I wasn't actually awake at dawn. Being the quality of sleep we both got was rather poor and interrupted by the snorer, we seemed to mutually, at some point in our slumber, agree to sleep in a little late. Anyway, it was nice when I actually woke up. Sunny, even.) We were also able to transfer rooms into the house, since many of the guests were part of a school group that left in the morning. I thought the stables were nice for a hostel- the house itself was even better.

The hostel:



By about 11 or so, we were on our way into Dingle to rent bikes. The hostel owner, who turned out to be our driver of the evening before (it was also a family run business- apparently, they converted their old farmhouse into a hostel), suggested we rent bikes out of Foxy John's, which turned out to be a hardware store/bike rentals during the day and a pub by night! (Talk about multipurpose)

Some views of the walk into Dingle and the town:







(Yes, there are palm trees in Ireland. I was surprised, too)





All the signs were in Gaelic. Here's a few:





The bike tour started eventfully. First off, less than two blocks from Foxy John's, I get hit by the door of a car and knocked somewhat off my bike (fortunately, I wasn't going too fast). It was definitely an interesting start to the day and I wondered if it wasn't potentially prophetic and I ought to heed the warning. (I decided to ignore it.) Along the bike ride, we stopped at many of the places mentioned by Rick Steves in his Ireland 2008 book.

A graveyard...



The manor of Lord Ventry, now housing an all-Gaelic girl's boarding school...



These walls were everywhere. Apparently, when the farmers want to move their cattle, they just take down a piece of the wall, drive the cattle through, and put the wall back up.



A nice view (there were lots of them)



The beach near Ventry (Ceann Tra in Gaelic)...The little houses on the far left are actually part of a trailer part where many Irish go on holiday with their kids (all of the Dingle Peninsula is a Gaeltacht, or Gaelic-speaking region, so it's rich with culture)



The beach also had some interesting rock formations. These were directly below the grassy knoll where we ate a bit of a snack (not lunch yet since we still had a ways to go). I ended up leaving my lunch here. Hope the gannets (seagull-like birds with six-foot wingspans who lived around there) liked it :)



Further along, we passed by Dunbeg Fort, an Iron-Age fort, ready to fall into the sea. It was getting late and we were less than halfway, so we didn't stop. The dark stone walls in the very back of the picture is part of the fort. There were also a lot of sheep, all with funny painted marks on them.



Another stunning vista...



The next actual stop we made was at this group of beehive huts/clochans. According to the pamphlet, it's called Cathair na gConchuireach, and the free farmers of the the Early Christian Period lived here. Here's a couple of pictures:







A little further along we passed the Upside-down Bridge. It's truly what it sounds like... A bridge with a stream running over it. Here's Allie crossing:



We soon passed a spectacular cliff view while approaching Slea Head...







It was shortly after this point that we realized we had to stop stopping and taking so many pictures. This was a rather problematic for me, since I spent most of the trip behind the lens of my camera. For example, this day alone I took well over 200 pictures. Not all of them turned out well, since I quickly started trying to bike and take pictures at the same time. Surprisingly, they didn't turn out that bad. Here's one, a perfect example of why I grew to think of Ireland as a Giant's Checkerboard:



The next place we pass by is Dun Chaoin. We've been at this for 16.9 km at this point, and are getting a little tired. Hungry, too. It's also only a third of the way, and there is no way we're getting these bikes back by 8pm. At a rather large hill, we saw this sign:



And a little later:



Some more views from the bike:





The next town we passed through was Baile an Fheirtearaigh (Ballyferriter). We stopped here and got some food (finally...)



Some views while passing through the town:





A fun shot of my shadow chasing Allie on our bikes:



Our last real stop was this old church. It was late at this point and we were both getting a little tired. We had also given up the thought of getting the bikes back by 8pm. We figured since it was a pub, they'd probably accept them later, and just hoped we wouldn't be charged extra.









One last shot:



It was dark by the time we got back, finishing up a 47.5 km bike ride (I hadn't been on a bike in years before this. Not what I would recommend if you, my readers, ever attempt this). But we made it! The pub was in full swing, but they still took our bikes back and didn't charge us extra. We were planning on going to another pub, but decided to just stop at a grocery store instead, since we were both tired. The mile back to the hostel was painful and took awhile. Allie went ahead of me, since she was worried the kitchen would be closing soon (it didn't). I really just wasn't motivated by food at that point. We were in a six bed dorm that night, but we had it to ourselves (I think the hostel owner might have felt a little bad about having us stay in the stables the night before even though it was just fine, and tried to give us a semi-private room if they didn't get too full.) At first, all I wanted to do was lay on my bunk and do nothing, but then the thought of a hot shower motivated me to move.

Day 4: Long Bus Rides in the Rain and Mingling in Dingle

The title really says it all. Lots of long bus rides in the rain as we crossed over Ireland to Dingle in the West. I took some pictures while on the bus, but most didn't turn out well due to the rain. We found out some interesting things about Ireland buses- 1) they're cheaper than trains, not too much slower, and much less timely; 2) some are nice and clean while others aren't; 3) many kids (American high school equivalent I would guess) take them to school and back; and 4) going in and out of Limerick takes about three times as long as you plan for. The last point is quite significant. We managed to miss our transfer in Limerick, which got us into Dingle much later than anticipated. I don't even think the delay was due to traffic since there was a little in Dublin, but not much, and we were over an hour late. Also, somehow, our backpacks managed to get wet (Allie's was soaked, mine was a little damp). The wait for the next bus to Tralee was eventful because of this. Wanting to keep our bags dry and with little resources, we ended up coming up with the plan to cover them in plastic garbage bags. There were a couple of little places (sort of mini-convenience stores that aren't attached to gas stations) nearby the bus station, so Allie went out looking. She found one with garbage bags, but they didn't take cards. The second time I sent her back with pounds instead of euros, but the third time's the charm, and she came back, a little wetter than she had left, with a roll of black garbage bags. (There's a picture of Allie with her garbage bags and wet backpack.) The bus to Tralee was also rainy and unremarkable, as was the final leg of the journey from Tralee to Dingle. Once arriving in Dingle, things got a little better.

We spent part of the bus ride looking at hostels in Dingle. By far, the best looked like the Rainbow Hostel, described in my book as a "pot o'gold". It was a farmhouse about a mile from town, described as comfortable, clean, and having great management. The mile outside of town concerned us at first (since it was still raining) but they also had a courtesy shuttle that ran into town. We decided to find a pay phone and call the hostel when we got to Dingle town and ask for a ride. However, when we got off the bus, there it was waiting. (Apparently, they meet every bus, but all we knew was that it was a gift sent from the heavens.) The driver even waited for us to run into the grocery store and use the ATM, since they didn't take cards. It was also cheaper than the hostel in Dublin and by far nicer. They were a little full that night, so we ended sleeping in the converted stables which were surprisingly comfortable, the only downside being one of the other people in the room snored. (Ah, the perils of staying in hostel dorms...)

Since we had been eating out of grocery stores primarily to save money, we decided to have some genuine Irish pub food at Murphy's Pub. It was at this pub that I fell in love with Irish soda bread. (Delicious...) The food was good, and they had a nightly music session going on- three local male musicians who played various stringed instruments and sang ballads (some old, some new, some sweet, and some...raunchy). Overall, very enjoyable, if a little touristy. A little like DisneyIreland, if you get my meaning. I'd say a good 80 to 90% of the people in the pub were probably tourists.

We ended the day back in our stable dorm, hoping that it wouldn't be rainy again tomorrow, since a bike ride of the Dingle Peninsula was the plan.

Day 3: Edinburgh to Dublin

Our flight to Dublin was at 3pm. I found, to my surprise, that it is fairly cheap to fly in Europe. There are plenty of discount airlines with cheap fares if you book at the right times. My ticket to Dublin was about $100, once all the extra charge were added- tax, checked bag fee, even a seat. They do charge you for everything, down to the seat. I think the flight alone was only about $30.

Since both Allie and I had an extra bag we did not want to bring along to Ireland (packing for both short vacation and school year can be difficult, fyi), we spent the morning trying to figure out where we could cheaply and securely leave our bags for the week. The University of Edinburgh could not help us. We found a hostel that stored bags for about 2 quid a day, but you had to stay there the night previous to when you wanted to store, not the night at the end of your trip. (The Edinburgh Backpacker's Hostel, if anyone is interested.) Finally, the only place that would take them was the Excess Baggage Company place at Waverly station for a ridiculous amount per bag per day. (Something like 6 quid, if I remember correctly. It's a 5 star hotel, for baggage!)

The flight from Edinburgh to Dublin was an hour long and fairly uneventful. I did get patted down going through security because I forgot to take all the change out of my pockets. That wasn't even a big deal because about every other person going through also got patted down. Once in Ireland, a somewhat thing occured. We were going through customs, and the customs guy quizzed us on our travel plans (and in my case, asked me what subjects I was studying). When Allie went through, she told him we were going to Galway (among other places) and he gave her the phone number of his son who lived in Galway. We weren't quite sure what that was all about.

Once outside the airport, complete with our backpacks, we started the search for the hostel (I brought the book HostelsIreland with me, which turned out to be a great asset). After going several blocks in the wrong direction, we finally find it. It was nice, clean, 8 bunks in a co-ed room and shared bathroom, and (best of all) free internet.

We went out to get some food and see a little of the city since we were leaving early in the morning for Dingle. Here's some pictures:

Days 1 & 2: Arrival in Scotland

Fortunately, I flew out in the afternoon. I say fortunately, because I was packing literally up to the moment my parents and I (and Odie) left for the airport, and I was still sorting through paperwork in the car on the ride. Upon arriving at the airport, I found out one of my bags weighed over 23 kg, so it was more packing (and unpacking) to distribute the weight evenly between my overweight duffel and underweight backpack. Finally, I managed to get through check-in and security with a little under two hours to spare and a nine-hour flight to London ahead of me.

I had a plan to beat the jetlag. It helps that I normally don't suffer a lot of jetlag, none actually, on the (relatively) short flights between Seattle (home) and Boston (school). But instead of a three-hour time difference, I had an eight-hour time difference to adjust to, and I certainly was not planning on spending my first few days in Scotland and Ireland jetlagged! So I had a plan, and it worked. I'll share my secret: I read a book suggesting that you set your watch on boarding the plane and pretend like its the time at your destination. If I did that, it would be about 2am, which is a completely different time of night. Instead, I set my watch ahead an hour, every hour. With a nine hour flight and an eight hour time change, it worked almost perfectly. Once you mix in the sleep (admittingly bad and uncomfortable sleep), I arrived in London believing it to be about 11am, which it was. The thing that really struck me, that made me say "Goodbye US, Hello UK", happened while we were flying low over London and I noticed the cars were driving on the left side of the street. At that altitude, most cities look exactly the same. Sure, there are differences in architecture, maybe layout, but they are essentially the same- tiny models of cities with cars the size of ants driving through streets. It was the simple fact that the cars were driving on the opposite side of the street from what I'm used to that made me realize I was truly in another country.

Upon arriving in London, I was almost immediately thrown for a loop. I thought I was supposed to transfer flights to Edinburgh and go through customs there, but it turned out I was going through customs in Heathrow. I was still a little groggy from little sleep and unprepared, and I came out of it hoping that I got the correct visa. I had a bit of a wait, so I found a place to sit down. Another thing that really struck me was how many languages were being used around me in a simgle seating area. Sometimes, going through SeaTac or Logan, I hear some languages but mostly American English. At Heathrow, there were more speakers of foreign languages than speakers of English! And the ones who spoke English had a variety of dialects that sometimes made me wonder if they were even speaking English and not some pidgin variety.

My domestic flight to Edinburgh was short. I retrieved my bags and waited for my friend Allie, who had already been in Scotland a week. We had been friends since high school, and I found out in early spring that she was spending a year at the University of Edinburgh, so we decided to plan some trips. I realized my own dependency on cell phones (mobiles, here) when her bus was late and I had no way of contacting her since neither of our American phones worked! After waiting around a little, I went on the internet. At the airport, there was a rugby team flying in, and they marched outside to the sound of bagpipes. I thought that heralded my way into Scotland rather nicely.

It's always nice having someone who knows the city be there for you when you arrive, especially when you've been awake over 24 hours, if you don't count the awful sleep you get on airplanes. Allie knew her way around the buses, grocery stores, and how to get to the place we were staying that night, so my tired brain didn't have to work. Over the summer, the freshmen (freshers, here) dorms are used as a sort of hotel to make money for the university. That's where we stayed. It was only a little more than a hostel, centrally located, and a private room.

That evening, we got some food, planned out the next day, repacked, and slept.