Ok, so I'm QUITE behind at this point, around two weeks, so here goes the big catch-up. The trek to Ireland was a short one, starting rather early with a bus to the Edinburgh airport at 6AM for an 8:20 flight (October 13th). The bus operated from just around the corner of my hostel, a relief while sick and with hardly any sleep. I flew with Aer Lingus, the little brother discount airline to RyanAir. No food is served on board these flights, there is no in flight entertainment, and business is done rather sternly. I can hardly complain however after paying only €49 for the flight (around $75). That’s right, I’m entering the Euro(€) zone. The flight was ridiculously short, taking around 30 minutes to attain the cruising altitude of 25,000ft, shortly followed by an announcement that we were entering our initial descent. Sure beats the five hours it took to get to Europe in the first place though! Quickly retrieving my bag and finding the very conveniently located tourist bureau, I purchased the “cheapest transportation into Dublin”. At €2.20 the local transportation option was a bargain, and THEN I was told it would take a grand total of an hour to get into the city, a mere 12km away. Not having picked up a city map yet, I followed the flow of people into the city centre to find an internet connection with which to call my CS host. CouchSurfing in Dublin, an Italian girl by the name of Valentina agreed to host me for a couple nights in her apartment shared with three other girls. Crushed to find that the McDonalds in Ireland didn’t have free WiFi as they did in the UK, I was lucky enough to find a nearby network. With some confusion, I managed to contact her and set up a time to meet. Valentina lives with three roommates, an Argentinean, a German, and another Italian. I
immediately met with Luise (the German) and her Dutch friend Gijs, realizing this was truly an international house. Hanging out for a while to get to know everyone, I slowly realized that Dublin was a city more about the sights and people, than museums and things “To do”, except – that is – drink. Making plans to nap the later afternoon away, we agreed to go out that night to a CouchSurfing meeting at one of the many bars located in an area called Temple Bar. Largely a student and youth hangout, Temple Bar is home to an impressive concentration of pubs, bars, and nightclubs. I met a fair number of couch surfers at the bar, but was unimpressed with the choice of venue for the purposes of socialisation, as the live music was acoustic, but wired and cranked to the max. As an evening in Dublin always goes, it didn’t end with one bar and we made our way to other venues to further the “socialising”. Thus the tone was set for my visit to Dublin. It would be a visit focused mainly around meeting people, sharing stories and experiences over a drink, and being very laid back, just as the locals are. This evening ended rather late, and resulted in a late start to the next day.
immediately met with Luise (the German) and her Dutch friend Gijs, realizing this was truly an international house. Hanging out for a while to get to know everyone, I slowly realized that Dublin was a city more about the sights and people, than museums and things “To do”, except – that is – drink. Making plans to nap the later afternoon away, we agreed to go out that night to a CouchSurfing meeting at one of the many bars located in an area called Temple Bar. Largely a student and youth hangout, Temple Bar is home to an impressive concentration of pubs, bars, and nightclubs. I met a fair number of couch surfers at the bar, but was unimpressed with the choice of venue for the purposes of socialisation, as the live music was acoustic, but wired and cranked to the max. As an evening in Dublin always goes, it didn’t end with one bar and we made our way to other venues to further the “socialising”. Thus the tone was set for my visit to Dublin. It would be a visit focused mainly around meeting people, sharing stories and experiences over a drink, and being very laid back, just as the locals are. This evening ended rather late, and resulted in a late start to the next day.Having seen the city by night, I decided to see the city by day on the CitySightseeing bus, which Valentina decided to hop aboard as well. The city has many fine sights to see, and anyone interested in the rich literary and academic history of Ireland would be delighted. I on the other hand was not interested in many of the artistic and literary sights offered, and after doing a circle through the city, we went for food , and went back to her apartment. It should come as no surprise that the plans for the evening were to go out and meet people once again. And meet we did. Again we visited a couple different bars, and the evening ended late.
A slightly earlier (which is not to say it was early) start the following morning, I decided to see the Guinness brewery, and after getting to a tourist information centre and finally getting a map, I was offered a ride outside of the info centre by one of Dublin’s free bike taxis. Sponsored by 
different companies or attractions, the most common bike taxi is sponsored by 7-up, where you are treated to a sample of their product. I got a ride in a bike advertising for Northern Ireland, where I was questioned on my travel plans to Northern Ireland (I had none) and told of all the sights I could see (joy...). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike Northern Ireland, I never dislike something I haven’t tried, its just that my travel plans were already set in stone on me leaving Ireland on a set date by plane. Dropping me at what might as well have been the pearly gates, I made it into the brewery and was absolutely taken aback by the magnificence of it all. Still a functional brewery, and the only one for Guinness in Western Europe, the information section is six storeys of educational material on Guinness, chances to sample the product, and even pour your own. The visitor building itself is no longer in use as a brewery, but is on the larger complex of brewery buildings. 250 years ago, already employing a good number of Dubliners, and soon to become the biggest employer in Dublin, Arthur Guinness signed a lease for the land for 9000 years under the agreement he would pay £100 for the lease, and £45 every year for the whole duration of the lease. Not bad for a lease covering a multi acre complex just outside of the heart of Dublin. To this date, a grand total of £45 is paid yearly to the city of Dublin for continued use of the land. Inside the building everything is focused around a grand centre atrium reaching the entire height of the building. It is usually not until the guides point out the shape that you realize the atrium is in the shape of – what in my opinion is incorrectly referred to as – the world’s largest pint glass. Possibly because I’m anal about the small details in the use of the English language, it was difficult but I managed to not point out that you can’t have a LARGEST pint glass. A pint is a pint unless it’s an American pint, then it’s different. Sigh. Maybe I should loosen up. The entire centre is designed for self guided tour, moderately interactive, telling you everything you could want to know about the history, present, and future of Guinness. I started off with lunch in the Guinness restaurant which was expensive, but surprisingly no more so than the rest of Dublin. It was unremarkable except for dessert which was a chocolate mousse, but served in a mini pint glass (again with the
incorrect naming of a “pint” glass) with whipped cream on top to make it look like a particularly heady glass of Guinness. Yummy chocolate. I then proceeded to the bottom floor to start the self guided tour. At a point you get to sample Guinness (just a quarter pint but at least they don’t refer to it as a mini pint!), just enough to whet your appetite for more, which of course comes at the end. On the 5th floor you make the very tough decision of whether to enjoy your free pint in the Gravity Bar on the 7th floor, a panoramic view of the whole city, or to pour your own on the 5th floor and get a fancy certificate saying you poured 
the perfect pint. Ever a do-it-yourself’er I opted for the latter, and a fancy-ish certificate is all mine! I also learned that in Dublin (and technically all over the world) if your pint is not poured properly, you can send it back for another (before it is all consumed of course), however I won’t get into the details (I’ll spare you this time). Pouring your own or not, one still has the chance to visit the gravity bar and enjoy the views it offers. I had a leisurely walk home, enjoying the sights as dusk set over Dublin on what was a relatively clear day. A relaxed night finished off with – you guessed it – a night out at the bars (noticing a theme yet? This is Ireland after all).
different companies or attractions, the most common bike taxi is sponsored by 7-up, where you are treated to a sample of their product. I got a ride in a bike advertising for Northern Ireland, where I was questioned on my travel plans to Northern Ireland (I had none) and told of all the sights I could see (joy...). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike Northern Ireland, I never dislike something I haven’t tried, its just that my travel plans were already set in stone on me leaving Ireland on a set date by plane. Dropping me at what might as well have been the pearly gates, I made it into the brewery and was absolutely taken aback by the magnificence of it all. Still a functional brewery, and the only one for Guinness in Western Europe, the information section is six storeys of educational material on Guinness, chances to sample the product, and even pour your own. The visitor building itself is no longer in use as a brewery, but is on the larger complex of brewery buildings. 250 years ago, already employing a good number of Dubliners, and soon to become the biggest employer in Dublin, Arthur Guinness signed a lease for the land for 9000 years under the agreement he would pay £100 for the lease, and £45 every year for the whole duration of the lease. Not bad for a lease covering a multi acre complex just outside of the heart of Dublin. To this date, a grand total of £45 is paid yearly to the city of Dublin for continued use of the land. Inside the building everything is focused around a grand centre atrium reaching the entire height of the building. It is usually not until the guides point out the shape that you realize the atrium is in the shape of – what in my opinion is incorrectly referred to as – the world’s largest pint glass. Possibly because I’m anal about the small details in the use of the English language, it was difficult but I managed to not point out that you can’t have a LARGEST pint glass. A pint is a pint unless it’s an American pint, then it’s different. Sigh. Maybe I should loosen up. The entire centre is designed for self guided tour, moderately interactive, telling you everything you could want to know about the history, present, and future of Guinness. I started off with lunch in the Guinness restaurant which was expensive, but surprisingly no more so than the rest of Dublin. It was unremarkable except for dessert which was a chocolate mousse, but served in a mini pint glass (again with the
incorrect naming of a “pint” glass) with whipped cream on top to make it look like a particularly heady glass of Guinness. Yummy chocolate. I then proceeded to the bottom floor to start the self guided tour. At a point you get to sample Guinness (just a quarter pint but at least they don’t refer to it as a mini pint!), just enough to whet your appetite for more, which of course comes at the end. On the 5th floor you make the very tough decision of whether to enjoy your free pint in the Gravity Bar on the 7th floor, a panoramic view of the whole city, or to pour your own on the 5th floor and get a fancy certificate saying you poured 
the perfect pint. Ever a do-it-yourself’er I opted for the latter, and a fancy-ish certificate is all mine! I also learned that in Dublin (and technically all over the world) if your pint is not poured properly, you can send it back for another (before it is all consumed of course), however I won’t get into the details (I’ll spare you this time). Pouring your own or not, one still has the chance to visit the gravity bar and enjoy the views it offers. I had a leisurely walk home, enjoying the sights as dusk set over Dublin on what was a relatively clear day. A relaxed night finished off with – you guessed it – a night out at the bars (noticing a theme yet? This is Ireland after all).An even earlier start this morning (but again, not very early), I packed all my stuff and headed to a hostel after my last night couch surfing in Dublin. Once settled in at Litton Lane hostel, I headed off to the Jamieson’s Distillery to get another taste of the Irish drinking culture (because I clearly hadn’t had enough already). No longer a functioning distillery, the old distillery complex is set up entirely to showcase why Irish whiskey – and Jamieson’s in particular – is better than any other whiskey on the market. Including a drink of the famous elixir at the end of the tour, when they asked for volunteers at the end of a movie on the history of Jamieson’s I was forewarned to raise my hand immediately. Doing so, I was chosen to sample whiskeys at the end of the tour, jump for joy (joy...or whiskey, your choice)! The tour is entirely guided, taking you through the entire whiskey making process. The complex includes a mix of new recreations of old brewing tools, and even cooler are the old stills and mixing machines. Having been chosen to sample whiskeys, while everyone else was getting their free drink, myself and five others were seated and had placed before 
us three samples of whiskeys, an American, Scotch, and Irish. Luckily we were told which was which, but for the first time having the three lined up I was finally able to discern a noticeable difference between the three. Choosing the Irish as my favourite (as did everyone else, I mean, who would be stupid enough to do otherwise in the Jamieson’s distillery) I was rewarded with another free drink of Jamieson’s. It was an enlightening experience, and leaving the distillery a little light headed, I returned to the hostel to plan my evening and the next day when I would travel to Cork. For supper I decided to splurge a little, and went to a nearby restaurant called The Italian Connection. Of course the name is terribly unoriginal, but the food was authentic, tasty, and plentiful. The bill was hefty, but the tiramisu was light and fluffy, and the smoked salmon fettuccini was perfectly, lightly seasoned.
us three samples of whiskeys, an American, Scotch, and Irish. Luckily we were told which was which, but for the first time having the three lined up I was finally able to discern a noticeable difference between the three. Choosing the Irish as my favourite (as did everyone else, I mean, who would be stupid enough to do otherwise in the Jamieson’s distillery) I was rewarded with another free drink of Jamieson’s. It was an enlightening experience, and leaving the distillery a little light headed, I returned to the hostel to plan my evening and the next day when I would travel to Cork. For supper I decided to splurge a little, and went to a nearby restaurant called The Italian Connection. Of course the name is terribly unoriginal, but the food was authentic, tasty, and plentiful. The bill was hefty, but the tiramisu was light and fluffy, and the smoked salmon fettuccini was perfectly, lightly seasoned.The next day (October 17th) I took the tram to the train station to catch my train to Cork. The tram system in Dublin is very new, installed only a few years ago, and runs very efficiently every five or so minutes at peak. 
Fares are relatively cheap, a ticket for the whole of the main Dublin costing only €1.40, and the trams are the complete opposite of the trams of olde, accelerating to their top allowed speed in only a few seconds, and traversing the city rapidly in their own lanes with their own traffic signals. The intercity trains on the other hand are slow, take indirect routes, and are relatively expensive for the time they take. My train to Cork took around three hours, slowing many times to pass over very rough patches, or (I assume) to allow other trains to pass on single track stretches. I arrived in Cork to spitting rain, the beginning of what would be almost two continuous weeks of it. The main part of Cork is situated on an Island, with suburbs stretching out to the North and South. My hostel was a five minute walk from downtown, the deceivingly large Kinlay House Cork. Deciding to avoid the rain, I stayed in most of the day only wandering outside to get some food to munch on. I searched out things to do in Cork, as it came so highly recommended by some. Unfortunately, they must have seen things which I did not, for I didn’t find a heck of a lot to do in Cork.
Fares are relatively cheap, a ticket for the whole of the main Dublin costing only €1.40, and the trams are the complete opposite of the trams of olde, accelerating to their top allowed speed in only a few seconds, and traversing the city rapidly in their own lanes with their own traffic signals. The intercity trains on the other hand are slow, take indirect routes, and are relatively expensive for the time they take. My train to Cork took around three hours, slowing many times to pass over very rough patches, or (I assume) to allow other trains to pass on single track stretches. I arrived in Cork to spitting rain, the beginning of what would be almost two continuous weeks of it. The main part of Cork is situated on an Island, with suburbs stretching out to the North and South. My hostel was a five minute walk from downtown, the deceivingly large Kinlay House Cork. Deciding to avoid the rain, I stayed in most of the day only wandering outside to get some food to munch on. I searched out things to do in Cork, as it came so highly recommended by some. Unfortunately, they must have seen things which I did not, for I didn’t find a heck of a lot to do in Cork.I discovered that Cork was a city good for jumping off to other nearby sites, so the next day (Saturday) I took the bus to Blarney, home to Blarney Castle and the famous Blarney Stone. Not really sure what to expect, especially since it was a site so unpublicised in backpacker channels, I was delightfully surprised (understatement) at what I found. The grounds themselves are a sight to be seen, exceptionally well kept and looking good even mid fall. The castle is also quite magnificent, most of it still
standing in its original splendour, aside from most of the roof and flooring not made of stone. And of course, one cannot visit Blarney Castle without kissing the Blarney stone. Said to grant magical powers of eloquence, it has been visited by such famous figures as Mick Jagger, Winston Churchill, Laurel and Hardy, Sir Walter Scott and many more. It is also rated as TripAdvisor’s most unhygienic travel attraction, but kiss it I did. I don’t know if it worked, you tell me, is this blog post any better? I also managed to partially get over one of my biggest fears, claustrophobia. At the base of the castle is a small network of dungeons, open to the public, lit inside, but barely open with a ceiling height around three feet, and barely lit, making me glad I
always have a flashlight with me. After clamouring through about 20 metres of tunnels, I came to a dead end and had to work my way back out. Any sights worth seeing in there? No. A cool experience nonetheless? Certainly! One could literally spend a whole day at the castle, enjoying a picnic lunch on one of the many groomed fields on the castle grounds, leaving in time for supper in the small town of Blarney, probably in one of the quaint pubs. By the time I left at around 5:30, it was getting dark and once again quite cold. I stopped by a grocery store and picked up some food for cooking, my budget not enjoying the price of eating out in Ireland.
standing in its original splendour, aside from most of the roof and flooring not made of stone. And of course, one cannot visit Blarney Castle without kissing the Blarney stone. Said to grant magical powers of eloquence, it has been visited by such famous figures as Mick Jagger, Winston Churchill, Laurel and Hardy, Sir Walter Scott and many more. It is also rated as TripAdvisor’s most unhygienic travel attraction, but kiss it I did. I don’t know if it worked, you tell me, is this blog post any better? I also managed to partially get over one of my biggest fears, claustrophobia. At the base of the castle is a small network of dungeons, open to the public, lit inside, but barely open with a ceiling height around three feet, and barely lit, making me glad I
always have a flashlight with me. After clamouring through about 20 metres of tunnels, I came to a dead end and had to work my way back out. Any sights worth seeing in there? No. A cool experience nonetheless? Certainly! One could literally spend a whole day at the castle, enjoying a picnic lunch on one of the many groomed fields on the castle grounds, leaving in time for supper in the small town of Blarney, probably in one of the quaint pubs. By the time I left at around 5:30, it was getting dark and once again quite cold. I stopped by a grocery store and picked up some food for cooking, my budget not enjoying the price of eating out in Ireland.Sunday was a terrible culmination of so many terrible things. It poured rain (making outdoor sightseeing out of the question), everything was closed on a Sunday (making the indoor sights inaccessible), and it was quite cold out (I was surprised there weren’t any flurries). It turned into what I have come to refer to as “non-days”, days where nothing happens. I exist, I eat, nothing more. This was one of those days, but I did get out to do some mail, get some meat for supper, and get some clothing items I was lacking. It was a good chance to get a feel for the hostel, and I certainly did, and noticed that while it was well situated and priced, it was lacking in a few areas. The cooking facilities were industrial grade which generally means quality and durability, but in this instance had been left to deteriorate. The gas ranges are no longer electrically lit, but rather by matches and since the gas supply was as even as the road to Blarney Castle, I was twice singed lighting the range. The oven doors no longer spring shut and need propped closed by a chair (I wish I were kidding). In the bathrooms they have a noticeable mould and mildew problem and toilets which have a tendency to run. Does this seem like a really pissed off rant? I hope it doesn’t. I’m not pissed off, I promise. The staff are not overly friendly, making no attempt to crack a smile. One of the staffers even went so far as to verbally abuse about eight of us who lingered in the common room past an unposted, unmentioned closing time. On all of these things I have contacted the hostel management and received a very generic “yea yea yea, we’ll deal with it” response. I swear though, I’m not pissed off. The hostel was good, I just wouldn’t perhaps recommend it to anyone coming after me. There is another hostel, Cork International (if I remember correctly) which seems it may have been a better stay, try that one!
Overall I was a little disappointed with Cork. People made it out to be quite the tourist attraction, which it may very well be in summer, but in my thinking, a location has to have things to offer all year round in order to be an enduring tourist attraction. As it turns out, Cork is a destination mostly for visiting in so much as it is good for day tripping to nearby sights. So far my time in Ireland was less special than I had imagined it would be. It was a lovely country true, the scenery outside of the cities was wonderful and the history rich. But the people who were supposed to be so friendly, in Dublin were on the border between friendly and barely tolerating the tourist’s presence, and in Cork were blatantly cold to tourists. I maintain that I usually have a smile on my face when seeing a new area (no matter how bleak the weather), and to be met with unfriendliness is surprising and discouraging. I only hoped that with my next stop to Galway my mind would be changed and I would have a friendlier experience of Ireland. And I was not to be disappointed!
My trip to Galway was unbelievably long, taking around 6 hours by train. To book a trip on the uncommon route Cork to Galway would have cost in the neighbourhood of €65, but booking separately on the popular routes Cork to Dublin, Dublin to Galway cost only €25, and took only an hour longer. In comparison, a bus from Cork to Galway cost €24 and took only 2.5 hours. Unfortunately I didn’t know about Ireland’s terrific intercity bus services and booked all my trains ahead of time. My loss, your gain if you come to Ireland. In Cardiff I made friends with a friendly Irishman around my age named Niall who insisted I visit Galway on my trip and promised to set me up with some friends of his. He was a man of his word and finally arriving in Galway at 4PM I was met by Andreu, a Catalonian friend of Niall’s. He showed me back to his apartment where Niall stayed before he moved to Cardiff and introduced me to his roommates, a German, and an Irishman, another international house indeed! Not surprisingly for Ireland, Andreu showed me the nightlife of Galway, meeting a French friend (Samuel) and heading downtown for some local Celtic music. I was introduced to the Róisin Dubh, a popular local hangout where I would find myself the next two nights. I met more of Andreu’s friends, and met some locals as well, getting to know some truly friendly Irish.
After a spectacularly late evening, I had an equally late start to the day, managing to roll out of bed in time to do some laundry (meaning wait at the Laundromat for 2 hours) laze around the apartment for a bit, have some supper, before going out with Laughlin (the Irishman) for a night of comedy at the Róisin Dubh. I was hoping to see some good Irish comedy, but was instead surprised to see the evening line up included an Aussie, and an American. They were good for a laugh however, and I felt my €11 was well spent. After the comedy we hung around, meeting Andreu for (surprise) some after show drinks.
The next day I was determined to be a good tourist, and in the earliest start since Edinburgh, I got up to catch a sightseeing bus to Connemara, a district of West Ireland with Galway Tour Company. Connemara is a beautiful area, and the whole trip you find yourself navigating through
postcard perfect mountains (again referred to as bens) and large sweeping valleys, dotted with lakes and fjords. Our tour guide had the incredible gift of gab, although he could have done with a kiss or two with the Blarney Stone. Not quite knowing when to shut the microphone off, we were treated to hour after hour of inconsequential, rambling facts and personal anecdotes. At only 23, his anecdotes were not quite interesting enough to hold everyone’s interest and I definitely noticed a few people snoozing on the bus. No one snoozed when we caught sight of the scenery however, and with a good number of stops for photos, we were all happy. The tour 
also stopped at Kylemore Abbey, a non defensive castle built by Mitchell Henry for his wife, Margaret. Here our guide deceived us, having us believe that the castle cost an outrageous £1.3m to build in the 1860’s, and that was an 1860’s £1.3m. I have since read a much more conservative estimate in the tens of thousands of pounds in 1860’s money. On that note, a difficulty for travellers is never knowing if you can trust what your tour guide tells you. Think about it, they could feed you complete BS all day and you would be none the wiser. In forgetting small details for the purposes of my blog I have often searched online for the same facts and found them to be quite different from what I was told on the tours. It is an awful feeling, knowing that you paid for a lovely drive and the chance to be lied to. But ever the optimist, I like to think that he just didn’t know any better on this and any other fabrications he may have fed us. Rambling driver aside, the tour was well worth it for the scenery and the chance to get out of the city, especially at only €20 (plus an unadvertised €8 for entrance into Kylemore). Supper was spent with some friends I made on the tour before I went back to the apartment to hang out and pack, before once again heading out for drinks at Róisin Dubh. This time I went alone, meeting friends I had met the previous evening. I decided to stay out all night, hanging out with my new friends until 4:30 when I collected my belongings from the apartment and headed to the train station to catch my 5:20 train to Dublin for my flight to Copenhagen.
postcard perfect mountains (again referred to as bens) and large sweeping valleys, dotted with lakes and fjords. Our tour guide had the incredible gift of gab, although he could have done with a kiss or two with the Blarney Stone. Not quite knowing when to shut the microphone off, we were treated to hour after hour of inconsequential, rambling facts and personal anecdotes. At only 23, his anecdotes were not quite interesting enough to hold everyone’s interest and I definitely noticed a few people snoozing on the bus. No one snoozed when we caught sight of the scenery however, and with a good number of stops for photos, we were all happy. The tour 
also stopped at Kylemore Abbey, a non defensive castle built by Mitchell Henry for his wife, Margaret. Here our guide deceived us, having us believe that the castle cost an outrageous £1.3m to build in the 1860’s, and that was an 1860’s £1.3m. I have since read a much more conservative estimate in the tens of thousands of pounds in 1860’s money. On that note, a difficulty for travellers is never knowing if you can trust what your tour guide tells you. Think about it, they could feed you complete BS all day and you would be none the wiser. In forgetting small details for the purposes of my blog I have often searched online for the same facts and found them to be quite different from what I was told on the tours. It is an awful feeling, knowing that you paid for a lovely drive and the chance to be lied to. But ever the optimist, I like to think that he just didn’t know any better on this and any other fabrications he may have fed us. Rambling driver aside, the tour was well worth it for the scenery and the chance to get out of the city, especially at only €20 (plus an unadvertised €8 for entrance into Kylemore). Supper was spent with some friends I made on the tour before I went back to the apartment to hang out and pack, before once again heading out for drinks at Róisin Dubh. This time I went alone, meeting friends I had met the previous evening. I decided to stay out all night, hanging out with my new friends until 4:30 when I collected my belongings from the apartment and headed to the train station to catch my 5:20 train to Dublin for my flight to Copenhagen.Galway was a very redeeming city in my mind for the whole of Ireland. A country definitely best seen in summer, it seems to have a tourism mentality which switches off once out of season. It puts away the friendly smiles and cheerful demeanours in favour of a nose to the grindstone, hard at work attitude for winter. Galway however is a happier city with plenty of people waiting to crack a smile or a joke. While Ireland could be quite lovely to see in October, it is difficult for one without easy mobility to see the beautiful parts. There is a lot of culture in the cities, but the true Ireland is in the country side, in the Irish speaking parts, off the beaten path. I would recommend Ireland to anyone, but as I almost made the mistake, don’t stick to the big cities, and if you do, be sure to sample the drinking culture. Whether you are a big drinker or not, have a pint, share some stories, get to know this very Irish side of life. I’m sure some have read through this post and though “my, he does drink a lot!” But in all honesty, I was quite controlled and my budget saw to it that I stayed that way. There is a part of me that wants to be a good tourist and go to bed at a decent hour every night, and get up bright and early to see as many museums, local cultural attractions and money sapping sights as possible, but there is another part that recognises that in some places, the best way to see a locale is to see it the way a local does. In Ireland, that just happens to be at night with a smile on the face and a pint in the hand.
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