Ireland 2010

Ireland Posted June 26, 2010

Simply stunning. I was amazed by how beautiful Ireland is. If I had to describe Ireland and its beauty, it would be as if God had too much green paint and mountains when he created the world so he decided to drop the mountains in Ireland and slather them in an emerald green with pockets of wild flowers everywhere.

I really didn’t do all that much research for this trip. I just planned a basic itinerary; however those plans were thrown out the window after day one. The pictures I took give Ireland no justice of what the landscapes are like. And, unfortunately, photographs can not give an indication of the people's character which was rough around the edges, warm, funny, and sincere. It was an entirely different trip than I had done before. Instead of spending time in cities, I tried as hard as I could to avoid the cities, and really just soak up the scenery. I was tired of seeing urban areas and this trip was perfect. I did a lot of hiking and it reminded me of being home, being surrounded by nature and hiking around Ft. Collins, CO.

I flew into Cork early in the morning and immediately looked for a bus to Doolin which is where the Cliffs of Moher are located. Doolin is on the west coast of Ireland just a bit south of Galway. I had a four hour bus layover in a small town called Ennis. There wasn't really much to do in the town. After you walked around it once, there was no need to walk around it twice. Please keep in mind I was running on less than 4 hours of sleep (sleeping in airports will do that to you). So, I sat and watched hurling, a sport similar to field hockey but the ball can be lifted in the air and hit like a baseball. The game moved incredibly fast and I was told it was the fastest sport in the world. A coach of a 17 year old girl’s team saw me watching with interest. He walked over and asked if I wanted to join. Who am I to turn this down? So I walked out there having no clue of the rules or even the name of the sport. I was wearing jeans and my sneakers. I was confused and sleep deprived. The girls thought it was funny to see me out there running around like a chicken with its head cut off. They also thought it would be funny to 'miss' the ball and 'accidently' hit my shins numerous times. I did not find this funny. On several occasions I was found on the grass writhing in pain after being smashed by a very heavy and thick wooden stick. Also numerous times, I was called a word which I do not wish to type as my mother reads this. Tiny Tim looked less pathetic as I hobbled off the field swearing under my breath in pain as each step brought on a new shock of pain. A few of the dads chuckled and invited me for a couple of pints at the local pub. I agreed. To my amazement, Guinness healed me. So my first impression of the Irish was outgoing, mean enough to destroy your legs and then nice enough to buy a few pints of Guinness at 11 in the morning.

I arrived in Doolin in the early afternoon. This is a place where goats, sheep, cows, and horses all outnumber the people. It is spread out through the rolling countryside. The town looks like a quilt from on top of any hill. The seams of the quilt are white stone walls keeping the livestock in their emerald green pastures. Gorgeous. I chatted with the bus driver as I was the only traveler heading to Doolin for the majority of the way there. She provided me with local town gossip about the town drunk, and so on This provided even more color to this beautiful town. I stayed at a fabulous hostel which was rated the number one hostel in Ireland five years running. It was an experience, to live in a 300 year old farm house. Most of the interior in the common rooms still have the original stone and dark woods.

Karl, the owner drew me a map of a 8 kilometer hike to the cliffs. So I set off, not really expecting a lot besides a few big cliffs. I was wrong. On the way I chatted with an Irish farmer who invited me to help slaughter and prepare a lamb for a roast the next day to celebrate his daughter’s wedding. I would love to have done it because when else can I say 'ya I killed a lamb and prepared it for a Irish farmers wedding and joined in on the celebrations'. I however had to decline as I had already booked a hostel in Cork for the next night.

The hike was gorgeous. There was not another soul in sight. To the left of me were rolling green hills and livestock. To the right of me were dramatic views of the Atlantic and wild flowers growing along the cliffs. It was one of those moments that you say 'I am alive in this moment' I don’t think anyone could say otherwise. So the adventure on this hike came when I was taking photos of a herd of sheep, I must have gotten a little too close and a ram looked at me and stood its ground. I kept walking, and then the thing I feared happened. It charged me. I don’t think I have ever run so fast in my life. If this ram hits me, I’m falling 600 feet to the waters below. So I sprinted for about 20 or 30 yards and literally dove over a barb wire fence separating two different pastures. I doubt Rick Steves ever had such an adventure. If I had to run another 10 feet, there is no doubt in my mind that ram would have hit me. So I laid on the other side of the fence, laughing at what just happened and thought 'Well this sure isn't Florida is it?'. The views of the Cliffs were great. The scent of the ocean filled my nostrils bringing me back to home. When I closed my eyes I could see myself lying on a Florida beach wiggling my toes in the loose sand and feel the sun beat on my face. When I opened my eyes, I was not there but somewhere maybe even more beautiful. Puffins and seagulls flew around in search of food. They were dive bombing and leaving small splashes hundreds of feet below in the sea. The soft and thick grass consumed your legs and flowers were everywhere along the edges of the cliff. There was also some type of plant that looked like grain but had small flowers on it. This plant grew in very large patches. The wind blew them and it looked like waves the way they moved. They even crested. This was truly an awe inspiring place. I feel lucky to say I have been there. It’s in the running for the ' Seven New Natural Wonders of the World' at least for today on my list.

I went to a couple of pubs in Doolin but found them to be very cliché. They played 'traditional' Irish music for the tourists and I did not see one local in the pub. I, of course, ordered a pint though and watched a world cup match and met a couple of great Germans there.

The next day, I went to Cork as it is known as Ireland's 'people's capital' so I went there with high expectations and what I found was a city that smelled and had trash strewn throughout the city. Drugs were prevalent. I was offered cocaine no less than 4 times in the night, and also saw some one tie off and shoot up heroine. I’m sure it is a wonderful place. It’s just hard to enjoy the city when you are offered lines of coke while at a pub with new friends. Then on the walk home we saw someone tying off. Needless to say, Cork is not my favorite place. I did, however, meet three girls(two Americans and a Swede) that wanted to rent a car and drive around the Ring of Kerry. This sounded good so I went in on a tiny little car with them and we set off enjoying the views and the adventure of driving on the wrong side of the road. The Ring of Kerry is breath-taking. Every moment you are surrounded by large mountains covered in lush vegetation. Sometimes I thought I wasn’t in Ireland but the Pacific north west. However, the character of the villages and people were authentic Irish. This was not just the tourist version where tourists heavily outnumbered the locals. We passed through valleys and we really didn’t have a map. We just asked locals along the way. This is not a problem because the Ring of Kerry is really only a few roads unless you get off the main track which we did. While lost, I stopped and asked directions from the stereotypical Irish man ever. He was walking along side of the road with a cane, wearing a wool sweater, and that hat they are famous for, while his sheep dog walked along. I asked for directions and all I understood was garbled English. No clue what he was saying. It’s funny to think he spoke the same language.


We made it to the quaint village of Killarney which is the base camp of the Ring of Kerry. I said my goodbyes to my road trip partners as they were heading to Galway and I wanted to do some hiking around the ring. So I dropped my pack at the hostel and asked where I could find a couple of long hikes. They gave me a trail map. There were about 35 kilometers of ground to cover to get to them.. I decided to try my luck at hitchhiking and it worked out great. I met an Irish man that had two lucky charms in his car, a couple from Tasmania on their 40th anniversary, two Germans on a honeymoon, and a hilarious group of Aussies. I never had to wait more than three cars before someone would pull over. It was fantastic.

The hikes were gorgeous. Not another soul in sight, just cruising through narrow footpaths that weaved up through the large valleys surrounded by trees. Wild flowers covered the forest floors. There was an ever-present aroma of wet earth, flowers, and just the general smell of nature. It was completely silent besides the wind blowing through the trees and the crunch of moss beneath my feet. It was truly wonderful to be away from the sounds of cars and the noises of cities. I think this is the first time I have experienced complete silence since arriving in Europe. I close my eyes and now and I can feel the cool breeze and the sponginess of the moss. It is sublime. I want to head back as soon as possible.

My last day in Ireland, I flew out of Dublin at 10pm. It was ok if I didn’t spend that much time in the city. So I took another morning hike, and then hopped on a train to Dublin. On the bus from the train station I met a gay couple that invited me to join them in a gay pride parade. While I am not gay, I have friends that are and I support them. I marched with them for about 30 minutes until I said my goodbyes and explored the city to see the main spots as I only had a few hours. I found the city surprisingly nice. I saw a lot of diversity there. In each section of the town I saw little differences in the people in the way they acted or dressed. Temple bar was a pretty cool little area. It is very eclectic and I would compare it to Riverside, Jacksonville, however Temple bar is more rugged. As I was walking around, I also ran into another parade, of course, a zombie parade. Hundreds of college students were protesting something. I don’t know what. They dressed up like zombies, put on makeup and ran around the city. They stormed into stores, mobbed cars and ran up to people just to scare them. So I can say I participated in a gay pride parade and a zombie parade all in the same day.

This next is the best story I have in Europe and probably the most interesting and eye opening night of my life.

While I was road tripping through the Ring of Kerry we stayed in a tiny fishing town. It was off the beaten path and supplied us with authentic Irish culture. The girls were too tired to head out to the pubs but I wanted to see what they were like. So I walked down the street, opened the door, and found a small pub with dim lights decorated with old fishing nets, weathered stools, and weathered, retired fisherman. When I opened the door and stepped in, the whole bar turned around. Their faces were tan and wrinkles from the weather. Their eyes were kind but Im sure they thought 'What is this guy doing here?' I pulled up a stool between two guys and ordered a pint.

I started talking with them and the conversation moved to fishing. I told them about fishing in Florida. We swapped fish tales. I explained American football to a former professional rugby player and so on. These men were full of laughs, stories, and just jokes. The bartender invited me over for breakfast the next day but, once again, I had to respectfully decline as I did not know what the girl’s plans were. The two men and I talked to the most were Neville and Billy. Neville 64, a retired lighthouse keeper, had curly black hair with touches of grey. He had smile lines as deep as the Grand Canyon. Billy, his first cousin, was in town from up north and was a mackerel fisherman. He was around the same age and he had silver white hair and piercing ice blue eyes and a smile that could light up a room. Both of their hands were gnarled from the hard work they had done in their life. Their hands were the size of a baseball glove. They loved America, they said. Kennedy and Clinton made Ireland what it is today and 'without the help of those great men we would be impoverished and be miserable'. I had no idea. We talked about the IRA, but Billy quickly changed the subject.


He asked if I had a woman stateside. I said no. I asked if he was married. He was married many years ago. I didn’t want to bring up any bad memories so I dropped it but he continued. He told me this story that will stay with me forever. Years ago, he walked his newly wed wife, Shannon, to the car and opened the door for her. He kissed her and said he loved her. Billy closed the door and started walking away. He figures he walked away about 10 yards when he felt heat on his back. Billy was thrown off his feet. His newly wed wife was in a terrorist attack. His world had just been a victim of an IRA car bomb. She was dead after a year and a half of marriage. They had been sweethearts since childhood. The car had been rigged to explode when the key was turned. As he was telling me this, his voice shook, his lip trembled and his iceberg blue eyes began to swell. He continued with tears freely rolling down his leather like cheeks. He said that every morning since the day she died he writes her a letter telling her how much he missed her. Then Billy burns it to send it to her. I tasted salt on my lips and felt my own tears slowly slide down my face for this man. You could just tell how much pain this man had gone through. His world, his love was gone. It was random terror. Someone chose her car instead of another. I hugged him and he called me son for the rest of the night. Billy and Neville referred to me as their American Son. Billy showed me the burn marks on his neck. I have goose bumps and feel my heart drop for him still when I think about it.

They paid my tab when I went to the bathroom. I protested, but he said 'you are my American son'. He gave me a wink and said 'let me take you out for a meal'. I felt very uncomfortable allowing them to pay for everything. They said it would be very insulting if I tried to pay. So here I am in a tiny fishing village with two retired men that worked long hours their whole life. They take me out to a five course meal. We talked until we were kicked out. We said our goodbyes. We hugged. We exchanged emails. Billy looked at me and said in a serious voice, 'remember my wife?' I said of course. He made me promise to tell everyone that I loved how I felt each time I said goodbye because you never know when your time will run out. I made that promise and intend on keeping it so I start today. I love you all out there with all of my heart. Stay safe out there and be good to one another. Live with a zest and a smile.

Seize the day.

Nathan

Amsterdam and Brussels

Amsterdam.


First of all, I have gotten a couple of messages questioning whether everything in these blogs are true. Absolutely. I feel no need to lie about my journey as I write this for me and to express what I see, do, and feel while I am abroad. I have just been lucky to experience everything that I have and meet some of the most wonderful people on the planet.


I stayed in Amsterdam for a few days, and I have mixed feelings about the city. I met Shiv (a fellow UNF Osprey) and Larissa (an Aussie I met in Barcelona) in Amsterdam. Our hostel was in the heart of the Red light district. This seemed like a great idea at first but then you begin to realize the whole district is all the same. The red light district is made out of coffee shops (places where Marijuana can bought and consumed), chinese food(for munchies I assume,) head shops (where you can buy marijuana pipes, bongs etc), sex stores, and of course the infamous ladies in the red windows. You begin to realize there is no cultural value about the redlight and the district's coffee shops are filled with only tourists and locals don’t participate with the ladies of the night. In fact, the Netherlands, has the lowest percentage of people that smoke marijuana because it’s legal. They smoke it when they are in high school and then decide its time to grow up. Just thought that was interesting as the only country in Europe where it is legal to purchase weed is also the country with the lowest percentage of consumers. I understand that they are cutting down the red light district because locals are tired of dealing with the ever present smells. Also tourism may be hurting (there are 240 coffee shops in Amsterdam a bit excessive in my book.) Bottom line, going to the redlight district for cultural value is equivalent to going to I-drive (Orlando's tourist street filled with hotels, restaurants, and tacky t-shirt stores) for the real Florida experience. It’s a amusement park for adults.

Since I was in the red light district and it took about 25 minutes to walk out of it, I really didn’t venture out to the real Amsterdam until the second day. Now that’s the best part of Amsterdam. It’s gorgeous, boats navigate through the maze of narrow canals. Tall Buildings are built directly upon the edge of these canals. Most of the buildings are hundereds of years old and are incredibly narrow. The stairs in these buildings are incredibly steep, as there is such little room in these buildings. In fact, the bathrooms were so small that my knees were smashed against the door. Shiv and I went on a free walking tour and we were amazed by the history of the people and the humor of their history. Fun fact: when Napoleon conquered the Netherlands, he created a law that each person must have a last name (before it was Jim the Baker, Dutch are practical) in order to keep track of his subjects. The Dutch begrudgingly agreed; however, many of them thought it would be funny to make funny last names like 'Jim Pubichair, buttwipe, long live the king etc...now one out of ten Dutch people have jokes for last names. I guess their ancestors didn’t think that far in advance.

The people of Amsterdam and the Netherlands are incredible open-minded. Their motto is 'If you can contribute, you’re welcome to come.' It all started with William the Orange, a Medieval king that saw that there was money to be made helping those religiously persecuted. He thought that if he opened the doors to all those persecuted as long as they could contribute whether it be business men or an officer in another army you were welcome. Ever since then, those that were being persecuted fled there for equal rights (Jews from the Nazis until they conquered Amsterdam, homosexuals, even the French noblemen ran there for protection during the French revolution.) They were the first country to legalize gay marriage, prostitution(fun fact: it was in order to fight Sexually Transmitted Diseases), marijuana and they promoted women’s rights.


Also the language of Amsterdam is offically Dutch, but unofficially English. 94% of the Dutch people in Amsterdam can pass an English fluency reading, written and speaking exam. I am not quite sure if some states in America can boast such a literacy rate. The people are unbelievably kind. When I was on the train, I met a giant Dutch man (the Dutch are the tallest in the world) with weathered skin and hardened hands. He was a goat and olive farmer outside of Barcelona, He had this perpetual friendly grin that made you feel welcome and I couldn't help but flash my smile back. He thought it would be a shame for me to not enjoy Amsterdam the way the locals do, so he wrote down a list of things that he used to do when he was my age and lived in Amsterdam (another fun fact: the waiting list to buy a house in downtown is around 17 years.) He also then walked me directly to my hostel. I hadn’t asked him to, but he just said 'Once again, it would be a shame for you to be lost. I would hate for this to put a bad image on us.' This was also his first time home in 10 years. He put off seeing friends and family for me, a complete stranger. I touched by his gesture. However, this was not the only time that I was impressed with the Dutch generosity and hospitality. I did as my farmer friend recommended and bought a couple bottles of wine, sit on the canal’s edge, and call out to boat locals and ask if I could join. I did this on my last day there and on the first boat I was welcomed aboard and spent a few hours cruising the canals, sharing laughter and beautiful conversation. They went out of their way to drop me off at the place closest to bus stop as I was leaving straight from there to Brussels. There we parted with hugs and smiles. It’s just the Dutch way. It strengthens my belief that people are generally good, especially the Dutch.


I briefly talked about the bike culture in the Netherlands in my Rotterdam entry. However, in Amsterdam, it’s even stronger. There are so many bikes there locked up that people forget where they put them. In fact, there are four bikes for every one city native. Also, drunk dutch people find it fun to throw bikes that are not locked to objects like trees or a pole and throw them into the canals. It’s a little sport they call 'chuckin.' 20,000 bikes are in the canals and there is a layer of bikes 4 deep and it provides numerous locals with full time jobs to go around in boats with cranes and just pull out bikes 10 at a time. Now people are not only throwing bikes bin the canals, but also small ‘smart’ cars that are parked next to the canals. An average of two smart cars per week are being pushed into the canals. I also can’t tell you how many times I was almost hit by a bike while wandering around the city. It’s pretty dangerous, I must say.


Brussels.


I went to Brussels directly from Amsterdam to meet Larissa. I'm not really a big fan of the city. I stayed there for two days and saw everything the first afternoon I was there.

They have a giant square in the heart of city. It is the grandest square I have seen yet. Three or four story buildings made with the same design as the canal houses in Amsterdam. The tops were plated with gold, glistening in the sun, creating an awe-inspiring view. Also there were other fantastic buildings with ornate carvings of saints, knights, and other important figures with the the smallest details of the person’s facial features shown. It was truly a spectacular square. I met a girl named ‘London’ who was a ballerina (brings the count to two now) in NYC before she tore her ACL and shifted focus to film. I was interviewed for a documentary. I forgot the name, but she seemed pleasant enough so she tagged along with us. Anyway, there were a lot of wonderful architecture, monuments (Europe is just one giant monument meca), churches, gardens, and of course EU's parliament is located there. The city is primarily a business city, so there are large glass skyscrapers, etc. The exciting part of the trip came when there was a large, but peaceful, protest of Palestinians against the Israeli floatilla blockade. I had to walk through to get to where I needed to go. I was shoved and things were yelled at me a few times, but I felt safe. It was nothing compared to the communist rally in Barcelona.

The next day I enjoyed the parks around the city and stopped in for a few pints of Belgian beer. The belgian beer was everything I expected, and then more.


When I went to Brussels (about a month ago,) a lot of college grads were just starting to make their big trip through Europe with friends. In the hostel the first night, I encountered a lot of weird and common sense questions by these travelers (including two UF grads.)

Heres a list:

1.Q. Can you use a debit card to book hostels and flights online?
A. Really?! Of course you can.

2. Q. Where do you eat to save money?
A: Shopping at grocery stores
Q:You can do that?
A:rolling of the eyes.

3.Q:Where do you get a good haircut in Europe by a proper stylist.
A:Rolling of the eyes again.

And my favorite:
4. Q. Did you see a place to get Prada sunglasses today?
A I couldn’t help but laugh.

They all talked about doing Europe through the backdoor, but good luck wearing Prada, designer haircuts, and just showing up to hostels hoping for vacancy. I was happy to help, but I felt that this was very common sense stuff, not just beginner traveler ignorance. I wish them the best of luck. They were also very depressed when it rained that night. They left with expectations of Europe being like Candyland where everything works out and you will be entertained every moment. I told them a lot of the time, things don’t work, you miss trains, you jump on the wrong train, the weather is awful, etc. But how you deal with these situations will make or break your European trip. You have to entertain yourself and be disciplined with money to ensure yourself a long and enjoyable trip. Also, many of my trip highlights resulted from bad situations. It takes an optimistic attitude to find something to do. I think most people would agree with that statement. I don’t say this like I'm a world class traveler, I am not. I still look and ask for tips from others, but I just found the questions funny.


Sorry I don’t have much else to say about Brussels, I just thought it was bit of a let-down. I just stayed too long. I would feel different if I was just there for a night. Wonderful city though.


Sorry this took me so long to write and post but I have been basically non-stop traveling for basically a month now, and I just forgot to write it.

As always I love you and miss you all,

stay safe out there,

and, of course seize, the day.


Nathan