(briefly) on the road again

Good evening, everyone. As I write this, I’m sitting on a bench in Wexford, County Wexford. I’m right on the banks of the River Slaney where it empties into Wexford Harbor. After six hours on a Bus Eireann coach, I was ready to relax. I was pleasantly surprised as I opened my laptop to find I had a wireless internet connection.

As I continue to travel throughout Ireland, I realize how extremely difficult it would be to decide on a town to actually live in. Whether I’m taking in a town such as Wexford on a park bench next to old fishing boats, or working one main street of a town with face2face, or simply driving through a town on a bus, I quickly fall in love with each place. I’ve only been in Wexford for thirty minutes but can already tell I would be happy here for three or four months of my stay in Ireland.

I left Dromineer this morning. I didn’t know until I finished work yesterday evening where I would be working for the next two weeks. I am moving to a new team that will be working this Southeast area of Ireland. Our accommodation is actually about 20 kms up the road from Wexford in a town called Courtown Harbor. I will be working with an entirely new roaming team. The people on my team from the last two weeks again went to Galway today. There was yet another roaming party that was being put together for an employee who was leaving face2face. I decided I was not going to attend this going away party for some guy I didn’t know. While I enjoy Galway, I was ready for something new. More importantly, I was ready to free myself from face2face for a short weekend. As I’ve told you, my life from Monday – Friday revolves in some way or another around face2face. I was ready for a break.

My team dropped me off in Nenagh on they way to Galway. It was a refreshing feeling to get out of the car, put my pack on, and realize I didn’t have much of a plan. I only knew that I wanted to somehow get to the Wexford area. Six hours later, I’ve arrived. When I publish this post, I’m going to find my way to the lone hostel in town and hope they have beds available.

Before I went out last night, I was again talking with my friend Lyndon about his love for the Midwest. I had been reading my Lonely Planet Ireland book as I wanted to see what the Wexford area had to offer Matt Kyhnn. Lyndon introduced me to his Lonely Planet United States book. I went straight to the index to check out what Lonely Planet had to say about the Iowa/Iowa City area. It was interesting to read the author’s synopsis of Iowa City. The good places to eat: Baldy’s, Malsala. Good bars to visit? Not the Summit, not the Airliner, not even Quintons. Nope, Lonely Planet directed visitors of Iowa City to (drum roll) The Foxhead Tavern!

I’m currently reading the Alchemist. It is a brilliant book – you should all read it. Written by Paulo Coelho, it is the story of a boy who travels the world in search of a treasure he has dreamed of. Along the way, he learns to listen to his heart and follow his dreams. It is full of wonderful quotes, and I wanted to share the following with you.

“I don’t live in either my past or my future. I’m interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you’ll be a happy man. You’ll see that there is life in the desert, that there are stars in the heavens, and that the tribesmen fight because they are part of the human race. Life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we’re living right now.”

With that, I’m going to go find my hostel. It is getting dark and my hands are getting cold.

And, for anyone else who was worried, the trash bags I referenced in my last post did not stay on the streets of Dromineer. On the way home from The Whiskey Still, I picked them up and brought them back to our place. My roommates were shocked that after about two hours, I still hadn’t thrown the trash away, as this was my original intention.

mdk

Continue reading...

updates

Hello all. I’m in an internet cafe in Limerick right now. Below, you’ll find three blog entries that I’ve written in the past week. Thanks for continuing to stop by, I’m sorry for the lack of posts recently. I’m writing as often as possible and will do my best to post when I have time and internet available. cheers

monday the 24th, 2007 – dromineer bay, county tipperary

Welcome to face2face fundraising – UIF Telefund part deuce. Really, the similarities between the job I just signed on to and my job of four years in Iowa City are quite amazing. Instead of making warm calls to alumni of The University of Iowa, I’ll be making cold introductions with members of the Irish public – face2face on the streets.

“Hi. My name is Matthew Kyhnn, I’m working with face2face fundraising on behalf of Barnardos. How are you doing today …”

Bernardos is Ireland’s largest children’s charity. Each year, Bernardos works with over 12,000 children, youths, and families in Ireland. Today, one out of ten children in Ireland are living in poverty. These talking points – and many others – were presented in today’s training. Really, without my experience at The UIF, I’d be scared shitless as to what tomorrow will bring.

I trained today with five other people – a guy from Australia, a guy from Dublin, a girl from a town near Dublin, Brian, and Lucas – my new friend from the Czech Republic. Lucas and I were assigned to (drum roll) Limerick. There are five or six roaming teams currently scattered throughout Ireland. We didn’t know where we would be assigned until midway through training. Before our trainer came in with our town assignments, we were talking about Limerick. “The stabbing capital of Ireland,” among other great descriptions was used when discussing the wonderful little city. Only two hours into my trip to Limerick with Lucas did we find out we’d actually be staying 50 km outside of Limerick in Dromineer.

I’m writing this from my new home for two weeks, a holiday home in Dromineer at the Waterside Cottages. I’ve yet to see if there is actually water outside of my cottage, it was dark and raining when I arrived. My roommates? Lucas, Lyndon (from Australia), Ashleen (from some town in the North), and Phil (from Dublin), Team Leader. The holiday home is quite nice. I don’t have my own room, but I’m only sharing with one other person – far better than the average of 8 or 10 in the hostels of the past three weeks. One major downside however is I have no internet access. A part of me wishes I was in a hostel, not sure what tomorrow would entail, or where I would end up tomorrow evening. I enjoyed the unknown. Alas, while I enjoyed this, my Wells Fargo checking account was beginning to have mixed emotions. A paycheck will be grand. Tomorrow, I’ll take to the streets of Nenagh, Ireland.

Day one is completed. A long day one is completed. To be true, it was much more difficult than I expected. In my mind, I continue to draw parallels between this job and Telefund. I guess not surprisingly, the most difficult aspect of the job was actually getting people to stop and talk to me, to hear me out.

Picture: Me, standing on a city sidewalk. I’m wearing jeans and a green jacket which has “Barnardos” clearly written on it. I’m sporting a three ring binder, a Barnados/face2face fundraising name tag, and of course a big smile. I’m basically screaming, “Stop and talk to me, I’d like to sign you up for a monthly donation to one of Ireland’s best known charities.”

Let us just say people aren’t dying to stop and chat. If I relate this to Telefund, instead of the occasional caller ID that says, “University of Iowa,” I picture a phone that doesn’t ring, it rather says, “A student is calling from the University of Iowa, they’d like to ask you for a gift, preferably on the credit card, please pick up.” You can only imagine how many contacts we’d get on a given night.

So, actually getting people to stop and chat ended up being the most challenging aspect of the job. Once they stop, it wasn’t tough for me to present my case for support. While Ireland’s economy has been rapidly improving in the last ten or fifteen years, the gap between the rich and poor is only widening. One out of ten children in this country – nearly 150,000 of them – are currently living in poverty. I’m not asking people for two or three hundred euros. Our goal is to sign people up for at least three euro a week – twelve euros a month. To put this in perspective, I got a cup of coffee on (one of our few) breaks today … €2.30.

The job clearly isn’t for everyone. My friend Lucas threw in the towel and is currently driving back to Dublin. Really, he was presented a good opportunity. He wasn’t originally going to take this face2face job as he hoped to work in a sporting goods store that he had worked at in years past. He comes to Ireland for about three or four months – from now until January – each year. After this, he goes home to the Czech Republic to film/photograph extreme skiing. He basically comes here to work his tail off for four months so he can film for the winter. Anyway, a job in the ski department of this sporting goods store opened up, so he took it. Nice guy. I got his contact info. If I find myself in the Czech Republic, he said I can crash at his place. Apparently, you can get lift tickets for only €8 a day. Not a bad deal.

I’m infinitely more comfortable with the situation – the job, the roommates, the accommodation – than I was yesterday evening. The work will be difficult, but I can tell I’ll enjoy it. It is right up my alley. I love being able to work knowing that I’m positively making a difference in the lives of others. Could I do what I did today for a year straight? Most likely not. But, for now, it presents a perfect opportunity for me – a good wage, free accommodation, and a chance to see more of Ireland.

Sunday night, 11:10pm

“When walking, think right. When driving, think left.” This was the line Brian and I quoted as we traveled Ireland for three weeks. You’d be surprised, simply being a pedestrian in this country requires a fair amount of thought – especially after a few pints. It feels natural to first look left, and then right when crossing a road. However, this would put you in the hospital before to long in Ireland. Even today, I still have to think when crossing a street. Tonight, I got my first experience behind the wheel of a car in Ireland.

At long last, the weekend came. This past week was grueling. My feelings on the job change daily – in truth, they change hourly. I enjoy the job, however the days are extremely long. We’re on the road by 8:30 and on the streets by 10. For two and a half hours straight, I have a big smile on my face and am constantly attempting to get people to stop and talk. You do everything possible to make someone smile, to stop what they’re doing, and give you five or ten minutes of their time. The vast majority of the time, people walk on by. At 12:30, I have a thirty minute break. Come one, I have two and a half more hours of the previously described activity. At half three I have another thirty minute break. I’m then scheduled to be off by six – however, the earliest we’ve got off the streets is 7:00. I’m home by 9 or 10, and proceed to eat, sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

Needless to say, the weekend was well received. I finally had the chance on Saturday morning to see Dromineer in the daylight. It really is a beautiful little village right on the shores of a big lake, Lough Derg. I went on a five or six mile run on the Lough Derg trail, a path that takes you along country roads, farm fields, and the shores of Lough Derg. The run was remarkable. I ran two or three miles out and then turned around to head home. As I was running back, it began to rain. It was a warm, steady, and beautiful rain. I felt incredible when I was finished. It allowed me some alone time and a chance to reflect on the week.

Yesterday evening, I went with the roommates to Galway for a roaming party. Three or four other roaming teams from throughout the country met up at a pub. It was Telefund all over again. Strangely, I was on the outside of the group looking in. A new-hire at Telefund, going on a Telefund bar crawl (before those were outlawed).

I missed Iowa City on Friday night. We had just finished working in Limerick and stopped in a pub to have a pint before heading home. As we were sitting at the bar, I noticed a PGA golf game. I was surprised to see this, as you rarely find video games in the pubs in Ireland. Drinking and going to the pubs seems to be much more of a social experience, a chance to connect with friends. As I saw this machine I couldn’t help but think of Silverstrike Bowling. My roommate Lyndon was in the states for a couple weeks a month or so ago and spent a lot of time in the Midwest – Minnesota, Wisconsin (As an aside, he has nothing but amazing things to say about the Midwest – his favorite part of the states, by far. It is fascinating to hear him rave about his time there). I asked him if he was familiar with the game, he wasn’t. Either way, I was presented with an opportunity to explain the game and the drinking/socializing that comes with playing. I immediately wanted to be in Iowa City, at Joe’s, playing Silverstrike, and washing down a pickled egg with a pint of PBR.

My spirits have stayed pretty high so far. I’ve done okay being away from friends, from family. I guess I’m not surprised. I was, though, feeling a little down on Thursday evening when we got home. I was tired, questioning the job, and well, feeling blue. I told the roommates I was going to take out the trash. I was under the impression the trash bins were near the entrance to our complex. As I reached the street, I had yet to find the trash bins. I decided I would leave the trash behind and walk down to check out the lake (at this point, I wasn’t entirely sure a lake even existed. I found (what would later be known as) Lough Derg. It was a lovely evening – nearly full moon, stars in the sky, and the view of the lake was fantastically peaceful. As I was heading home, I noticed in the distance the familiar, lighted, Guinness sign that decorates the outside of so many Irish pubs.

I decided it’d be wrong not to have a pint at, “The Whiskey Still.” I entered the pub, sat at the bar, and ordered a pint of Guinness. I introduced myself to two middle aged women (who I later found out were twins) who were directly to my left. They were from Newcastle, England, and were in Dromineer for this weekend’s “Dromineer Literary Festival.” My one pint led to these ladies insisting on buying me two more. Most importantly, we enjoyed an hour long conversation. We talked about my work, their experience with nonprofits, my decisions to travel for a year, American’s outlook on traveling in general, and their love of Dromineer bay. It was great to again meet and connect with fellow travelers – it was exactly what I needed. I left the pub so happy, so touched by meeting two brilliant, kind-hearted sisters, that I was nearly in tears. Why? I’m not really quite sure.

But, friends, it is time for me to retire. Half eight will surely come way to quickly tomorrow morning. Oh, but, my experience behind the wheel in Ireland. Amazing. It was much easier for me to adapt to being on the left side of the road than I anticipated. Driving on the right side of the car … somewhat confusing, especially since I was shifting the five speed with my left hand. Roundabouts are as commonplace in Ireland as four-way stops are in the states – and, they’re brillant. Traffic doesn’t have to stop. Lastly, remember my describing the country roads in Ireland (if not, this is an excuse for you to read my earlier posts), tonight I was navigating them in the dark. Navigating them like a pro, of course.

cheers, mdk

Continue reading...

b l a r n e y

So, as I sit down to write this, I am still in Cork. It is Friday evening at 7:13PM. Actually, if I were to write this as the Irish do, it is 19:13 – but it is still said as “7:13.” Military time, kilometers per hour, degrees celsius, and always being referred to as, “lad.” This, is me in Ireland. So different, but as the days go by, it becomes more and more normal.

“Thanks, lads. Mind yourself now.” “Thanks a million.” “No worries.”

It is fascinating to think that I’ve been away from Iowa since the 31st of August. Three weeks, today. I’ve done amazingly well living out of my pack. Growing up, I remember I always hated having to live out of a suitcase on vacation. I would always be inclined to unpack it immediately on arrival to my family’s destination. Theoretically, I could unpack my pack upon arrival to my destination in Ireland – but, I have yet to have a permanent destination. The longest I’ve stayed in one town since leaving Iowa on the 31st is three nights. My days on the road will (sort of) come to an end on Monday. I’ve been instructed to arrive to face2face’s head office in Dublin at 10am. “Bring you backpack,” the recruiter said. Will I be in Dublin after Monday? She wasn’t quite sure.

I wish I would have had a chance to sit down and write before now. The days have really gone by quickly. The last time I wrote, I was on a bus, heading towards Tramore. I will try and bring you up to speed in the space that is my journey between Tramore and Cork (Does this make sense? I hope.).

Brian and I arrived in Tramore late Tuesday night. The bus driver was kind enough to drop us off directly outside the Beach Haven Hostel. Beach Haven Hostel. “Stay at our hostel, we’re right on the beaches of Tramore!” This, is at least what I thought when I booked the room. While the hostel was a three or four kilometer walk from the beach, it was a comfortable accommodation. Tramore would be a wonderful town for a traveling family to bring their young children. The beachfront is lined with county fairesk rides, fast food joints, and arcades. Most of these places had closed up shop for the winter. Brian and I ended up spending two nights in Tramore – it was a chance to catch up on some sleep, do some (much needed) laundry, and find myself lost again in a pasture full of bulls, barbed wire and electric fences, and cow manure.

The last night in Tramore, we decided to go on a hike to a peninsula that was three or four miles away from our hostel. It was raining lightly, but I had hostel fever as it had been raining all day. This rocky point contained two, giant, cement structures that were erected to memorialize a ship which crashed in Tramore Bay over 100 years ago. This ship mistook the bay for a neighboring port. Our hike to the Metalman took us on a trail that bordered these cliffs – not a difficult trek, but one that we would have been unable to make in the dark. By the time we left the Metalman, darkness had set in. It was an amazing place to take in, and we ended up staying longer than we should have. We were drawn to the crashing of the waves and the 30 – 40 mile per hour winds. It was amazing to think that I was looking at the same body of water that I swam in months ago during spring break. By the time we decided to head back to Tramore, we had to tactfully make our way through the aforementioned pastures – a trip that would have taken thirty minutes in full light ended up taking us well over an hour.

We caught a lift from Tramore to Cork with a man who was staying at the B&B (Bed and Breakfast) next to our hostel. The day we were doing laundry, we met him and found out he was headed to Cork the next day. Terry, a fire-fighter from New Zealand, was spending a couple months touring Europe. He had spent a little over a week with his daughter and her boyfriend traveling Ireland, but they had since left for London. He was happy to give us a lift. We appreciated the ride, and he appreciated the company. Yesterday evening, we stayed at the same hostel in Cork. Brian and I treated Terry to a quite tasty, but most importantly, economical meal of pasta, beef, and Beamish (Ireland’s other stout, brewed here in Cork).

Today, Brian and I visited the tourist trap that is Blarney Castle. I kissed the Blarney Stone and am now endowed with the gift of gab and great eloquence. Tonight, Brian and I are staying at the Bru Bar and Hostel. I enjoy Cork. Cork is Ireland’s second largest city with approximately 150,000 people. I feel Cork has as much to offer as Dublin yet is free of all the rush that is Dublin. If I had to pick a town to settle in while in Ireland, Cork would stand a fighting chance for being the town.

Technorati Tags: Blarney Castle

Continue reading...

cork

Hello, all. I’m in Cork now. Brian and I spent the last two nights in Tramore – a little beach community about 150km from Cork. I’ll write more about my experiences there soon, but below you’ll find my most recent writing. cheers

tuesday night, a little after eight pm, back seat of a bus eireann coach en route to tramore

“Beach Haven Hostel. Can I help you?”

“Yes, do you have any beds tonight?”

“Sure do, when will you be arriving?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I just left the bus station in Dublin and am heading towards Waterford.”

“Oh wow. Yes, we have rooms, but you have a good long ride ahead of you. Most likely, close to three hours.”

Little did this hostel owner know that less than 24 hours ago I got off a bus after a five hour ride from Donegal to Dublin. Bus Eireann has kind of been my own, personal coach during this past week. I question why I let the occasional, smelly passenger on my bus.

Today, I conquered the Irish bureaucracy (I hope). After I obtained a new letter from USIT and a letter from face2face, the Dublin PPS office was willing accept my application for a PPS number. It should be posted to my home (aka USIT’s office) in the next week. Brian and I celebrated with a trip back to PG’s bar and rewarded our efforts with a midday Irish breakfast and a €3 pint of Guinness.

After this, we made our way across the city to the Old Jameson Distillery. I wasn’t entirely impressed with the actual tour. By the Old Jameson Distillery, they actually mean the old Jameson Distillery. Today, Jameson whiskey is actually produced in a distillery near Cork. Our €8 tour consisted of us being directed through rooms that were made up to resemble a distillery. The highlight of the tour was our tour guide – Christian felt inclined to drop a cheesy joke in each scripted speech he presented.

Thank John Jameson for the tasting portion of the tour. During Christian’s introduction, he asked for volunteers, three men and three women. He was looking for individuals who would be willing to take part in a sampling of whiskeys at the end of the tour. He struggled to get three women in the group of thirty or so to raise their hands. When he finally secured his three female volunteers, he asked for three men to volunteer from the audience. My hand went immediately up with about twenty others – luckily, I was quicker to the draw. At the end of the tour, I sat down with the five other brave souls to a placemat that contained five whiskeys – Scotch Whiskey, American Whiskey, Jameson, and two other Irish whiskeys. Before we tasted each sample, he told us what to look for in the scent, the taste, and the aftertaste. To be true, with the exception of the Scotch, they all tasted the same. Needless to say, this portion of the tour resulted in me walking away quite impressed with the Old Jameson Distillery.

After stopping in the USIT office this morning, I made my way to a coffee shop just off of the O’Connell Street Bridge in Dublin City Centre. As I was paying for my coffee, the man taking my money noticed my Iowa Drivers License. “Iowa!” he exclaimed. “I was in Cedar Rapids three or four months ago for a wedding. We partied in Iowa City the night after the wedding. Have you been there?”

“I just moved from Iowa city about two weeks ago,” I told him.

What a small world we live in.

Technorati Tags: cork

Continue reading...

internet, at last!

Hello, everyone. I want to first apologize for my lack of postings in the past week or so. You’ll hopefully be happy to know that while I haven’t had the ability to connect to the internet, I have been writing as much as possible. Below you’ll find an update as to where I’ve been in the past five days. There is quite a bit there … so maybe you’ll want to read a couple posts and check back later. But let us not kid ourselves, you’ll be so engrossed by my journeys that you’ll have to read them all. I hope so, at least.

Anyway, I’m back in Dublin. I’ll be crashing early tonight as I have an early morning scheduled for tomorrow. cheers, mk

doolin, cliffs of moher, pain, and hitching – thursday the 13th, 2007

Pain. I’ll first start off explaining the pain portion of the title. Brian and I walked for miles today. Walking for miles would normally be a pretty pain-free process. This whole walking for miles concept becomes painful when you come to find these miles were walked with 75+ pound packs on our back. My entire body aches, I can only imagine how I’ll feel in the morning.

Immediately after posting my last blog entry, Brian and I headed to the Galway bus stop to catch a bus to Doolin. The country roads in Ireland are really something else. I’d compare them to a poorer quality, Iowa, county road – full of hairpin turns. In a small vehicle, these would be relatively comfortable to navigate. But in a massive Bus Eireann coach, these roads are treacherous. To me at least … they didn’t seem to mind the 65 year-old driver who drove them like a bat out of hell.

Doolin is a small village directly north of the Cliffs of Moher. Doolin is known throughout Ireland as being the place to be for traditional Irish music. Brian and I found great “trad” in the pubs of Doolin – real good craic. We spent the evening at the Aliee River Hostel – a 20 or so bed hostel with loads of character. An old brick home which was seated right on the Aliee River, approximately two miles from the sea. Two miles, I know only because of experience.

After Brian and I dropped our packs at the hostel, we decided we would check out the area. I figured if we went right out of the hostel, we’d come to the sea. We were correct, it was just further than we anticipated. From the small cliffs, we could see lights which I guessed marked the other half of Doolin. I had in my head that there were two parts of Doolin; unfortunately, I ended up being wrong. We made our way to these lights in the distance. We headed towards these lights not via a road, but through pastures of rocks, cows, and, alas, cow manure. A half an hour later, we came to realize said lights originated from a campground full of motor homes. It was now dark, my Chacos were covered in cow manure, and we had to make our way back to Doolin. Luckily, a short two or three mile walk up the road put us right back in Doolin where we found pubs with trad music, cold Guinness, and our first shot of Jameson on the Emerald Isle.

This morning we packed our packs and planned on hiking to the Cliffs of Moher. A conversation with the hostel owner resulted in us getting instructions on the best and, in my newfound opinion, only way to experience the Cliffs. The Cliffs of Moher stretch for miles and reach heights of over 600 feet. They are truly a breathtaking sight. We experienced the cliffs by way of a seven or eight mile hike directly on the cliffs’ edge. I’ll post pictures later, but again I do not feel they give the views justice. The sheer drops, gusty sea breezes, and vast openness of the ocean cannot adequately be described by my writing.

Four or five hours of hiking later, we came to the actual visitors center viewing area. I could not imagine having these viewing platforms ten feet away from the cliffs be your only experience with the cliffs. The views do not even begin to give what Brian and I experienced justice.

Hitching. The only true (an inexpensive!) way to backpack across a country. We left the Cliffs by way of a road that led into Liscannor – five miles into Liscannor. After a six or eight mile hike, we decided our bodies couldn’t handle any more pain. We began the walk with our thumbs out. Ten or fifteen minutes later, we were picked up. A couple from the UK were the hosts of our first hitching experience (we concluded they stopped much to the husband’s dismay). They drove us past Liscannor and into Lahinch where we intended on catching a bus to Ennis or Limerick.

These two towns were our goal as they would get us further east in the country. Further east was the goal as we had 3pm interviews with face2face fundraising in Dublin the next day.

In Lahinch, we made our way to the bus stop where we could catch a bus to Limerick. As the bus was pulling up, I said to Brian, “Are you sure we should drop fifteen euros on a bus ticket? Maybe we should hitch.” Thirty seconds later the bus to Limerick was pulling away without Brian and Matt on board. We walked to the edge of town and started thumbing for a ride. In not even fifteen minutes, a small two door Honda picked us up. I’m still not quite sure how we made it into this extremely small vehicle with our packs. Our newfound friend took us to a small town five or six miles away (a town that once held the record in the Guinness Book of World Records for the most pubs per capita, 22 pubs with 1000 people). From here, we caught a ride to Ennis. Hitching seems to be far more common and accepted in Ireland – it really is pretty amazing. As we were trying to get rides, we noticed people kept pointing one direction or the other as they drove past. We later found out that they were informing us they were soon turning, not heading in the direction we needed to go. I would hazard to say that 50 – 60 percent of the people who didn’t stop signaled to us in this way. “I’d love to pick you up, but I’m turning, sorry man,” is what they were trying to tell us. No worries.

We arrived in Ennis to find the only hostel in town was closed for renovations. The guy who drove us to Ennis advised us to steer clear of Limerick (everyone we’ve met has nothing but terrible things to say about this city). Sore, and still hauling packs that were most definitely not getting any lighter, we caved and booked a room at the nearest hotel.

A clean shower, a dinner of fish and chips, and a couple pints of Guinness served as the cessation to one hell of a day.

September 15, 2007 – 11:08am – Kells Hill Hostel

“Kells. Why in the hell are you going to Kells? There is absolutely nothing to do in Kells.” – The words of our neighbor on the bus leaving Dublin. We had just booked one-way ticket to Kells. Perhaps this Kells native has never read Lonely Planet Ireland’s description of the town. Or, on second thought, maybe she has …

“Kells is best known for the magnificent, illuminated manuscript that bears its name, and which so many visitors to Trinity College hope to see. Generally, they don’t make their way to where it was stashed for the guts of 600 years, from the end of the 9tth century until its removal by the Church in 1541. Frankly, they’re not missing all that much, and apart from the remnants of the monastic site that housed the Book of Kells, there’s not a lot to see or do here.”

I couldn’t help but laugh after reading this. Lonely Planet definitely had a negative outlook on the town. I thought the description of the town was intriguing. If nothing else, Kells presented a perfect opportunity to get out of busy Dublin and into the countryside. On a Friday night, all Dublin hostels wanted upwards of €25 a night for a dormitory style room. A ticket at €8, a hostel for €14, and €3.60 pints in Kells compared with €5.50 in Dublin? A no-brainier.

“But Matt, what about your job search? The interview, how’d it go?” Yes. What about the job search? Bran and I caught the 9:30AM express bus from Ennis to Dublin – at least, we thought it was the express bus. As it turns out, it stopped in every damn town between Ennis and Dublin. Our scheduled arrival into Dublin was half two (The Irish way of saying 2:30. Love it). This posed a problem, as we still needed to print our CVs and figure out where face2face was located – all with an interview at 3:00.

It worked out. We bypassed the printing of the CVs and caught a taxi to face3face’s office. We interviewed and (as if you had any doubts) were both offered positions with face2face’s roaming team. We start training a week from this Monday. It sounds like a pretty solid setup. We’ll be with a team of 4-5 other people who travel throughout Ireland to raise funds in support of local charities. We’ll typically spend 2 weeks in a town with our weekends free. Transportation is provided between towns. Accommodation is provided for the entire time we’re stationed in an area. What type of accommodation? Probably hostels, right? Wrong. We’ll be put up in local holiday homes. The work will be difficult, but it pays extremely well with opportunities for bonuses dependent on performance. The only downside to the position … I’ll have to – at least temporarily – be separated from my accomplice in this year spent abroad. For reasons which I may or may not agree with, face2face prefers not to place friends on the same team – at least until they prove they are able to adequately perform the functions of the job. It isn’t ideal, but again, the job opportunity seems to good to pass up.

As for now, Wolken and I are headed to Mrs. Carpenter’s house. Mrs. Carpenter has the keys to the St. Colmcille’s house where the Book of Kells was kept for 600 years. After that, we’re going to try to hitch to the Loughcrew Cairns. Here, there are 30 some Stone Age passage graves scattered about the Loughcrew Hills. These graves were all built around 3000 BC.

Sounds interesting enough. And there is nothing to do in Kells?

Sunday the 16th, 2007 – Donegal – Independent Holliday Hostel

The generosity, warmth, and kindness of the Irish continue to amaze me. Every time Brian and I find ourselves in a pub, a grocery store, or cafe – from the village of Aughrim to the city of Dublin – we are almost immediately surrounded with individuals trying to help us find the nearest bus or hostel. If nothing else, they offer us advice on places to see and wish us the best in our future travels. Last night proved to be no exception, in fact, we met one of the kindest individuals as of yet.

We hitched from Kells to the hills of Loughcrew. These hills marked the highest point in County Meath and provided an utterly peaceful atmosphere with wonderful views of the surrounding countryside. The Loughcrew Cairns sat at the summit of these hills amongst fields of sheep and cattle. Our plan after our hike at Loughcrew was to walk to a town we could see that was about two or three miles away. We made our way down an old, country road towards this town. As we were walking a car pulled up and asked us if we needed a lift. The driver was an archaeologist from Cork who had just left the Cairns. We were dropped off in the town which we learned to be Oldcastle. Our hopes were to catch a bus heading north someplace, but we learned from a bartender at a local pub that the last bus had already pasted through Oldcastle. However, Virginia was about 15 miles away – we could catch a bus in Virginia. We walked towards the end of town and were soon able to hitch a ride to Virginia.

Our new friend (who speedily drove us to Virginia, he was late to pick up his girlfriend for a date) dropped us off near the Virginia bus stop. As we walked up the sidewalk, we nearly ran over two men who were walking out of the pub. I’m sure two backpackers aren’t a common sight in the small town. The men asked us where we were from and where we were heading. “We’re from the states, from Iowa. Not really sure where we are heading – heading up the bus stop to hopefully catch a bus north,” I let them know. “Well, there is a pub in town, The American Bar! Come, we’ll buy you a pint.”

We couldn’t hardly say no.

Ralph and Datmond seemed to take a liking to Brian and me. They bought us a couple rounds that we enjoyed over great conversation and later the Ireland vs. Georgia Rugby World Cup game. Datmond was a Virginia native and had moved to Estonia years ago doing architecture. Ralph was originally from Dublin but had moved to Virginia. He designed and built kitchens. Ralph insisted that Brian and I stay at his home – Datmond was staying, as were two of his friends from South Africa. He had a couple couches that we were more than welcome to crash on. To be true, we were both somewhat apprehensive about the offer. Both Ralph and Datmond seemed to be great people and we were happy to have a free place to stay. We took Ralph up on his generous offer.

Ralph lived a couple miles outside of Virginia in a house he was in the process of building. We arrived, Ralph showed us around his home, and headed to bed. Exhausted, Brian and I crashed. We awoke this morning to meet Ralph’s friends from South Africa. They had moved to Ireland about four years ago and live in Dublin. They occasionally come to Ralph’s to enjoy the countryside (there was an amazing view from his home) and escape the busy life of Dublin. Ralph, Datmond, the couple from South Africa (my memory fails me as I can’t remember their names), Brian, and I enjoyed tea (coffee for this guy), breakfast, and more good conversation until about noon. We then got a ride into town to the bus stop.

What an odd, yet extremely refreshing series of events. I’m sure most of you reading this are shocked we would go to a strangers home to sleep. Yet, how amazing is it that someone would be willing to take in two backpackers (strangers) for the night? I guess you go with your gut. Thanks to our gut, we were able to meet four amazing individuals. There need to be more kind, genuine, people in this world. Ralph, if you find your way to my blog, thanks again!

We caught a bus to the town of Donegal today. Donegal is in the north of Ireland. The trip here was beautiful – full of lakes and rolling hills. We’re staying at a small little hostel on the edge of the town. The plan is to hike tomorrow before heading back to Dublin on Tuesday – hopefully, with the help of face2face we’ll secure our PPS numbers.

Technorati Tags: hitchhiking

Continue reading...

in limbo

The latest … I’m still in Galway. Essentially, Brian and I are squatting at the Kinlay House. We checked out at 11 but left our packs in the bagroom. We just finished cooking what would either be described as a really late lunch or a really early dinner – a terrific meal of pasta, chicken, mushrooms, green onions, bread, and irish cream butter (fantastic).

We dealt with the Irish bureaucracy for about four hours today. We went to the Irish Social Welfare office with the hopes of securing our PPS numbers (American equivalent of a SSN). We were there from about 12:10 until 3:30, only find out that we didn’t have sufficient proof of address. We have a letter from USIT who helped to secure our work visas for us – it states that we are currently residing at the Kinlay House. The SWO requires a letter from Kinlay house stating the same. Kinlay house won’t write the letter unless we are long term guests (3 weeks). We don’t want to book a room for three weeks because we’re hopefully going to land a job with face2face Fundraising Ireland. But, we won’t know if we’ll be working for face2face until we hopefully set up an interview in Dublin for Friday. The circle continues … most companies will want you to have a PPS number before hiring you. But, the face2face job would consist of us traveling throughout Ireland, raising funds for local charities – accommodation would be provided – so, there is no need to secure permanent housing.

So, as for now, we’re waiting until we hear from face2face tomorrow. I put in a couchsufing request with a guy who lives on the Aran Islands. We’re going to give him a little longer to reply, and if not, probably book a bus to a hostel near the Cliffs of Moher.

So, in limbo seems to be a pretty good description of where I am now. All part of the journey, right? Either way, the Guinness is cold and, “good for you.”

Continue reading...

g a l w a y

Brian and I have arrived in Galway. The trip from Aughrim to Galway was the first time I’ve viewed the Irish countryside (it was dark on the trip in from Dublin). It was everything I expected it to be – green.rolling hills.mountains in the distance, hazy through the fog.sheep.stone-made fences – it was spectacular. Galway is a great relief from the busy city of Dublin. Every time I write this, or bring this up in a pub, I feel like a slow, backwards Iowan. It really isn’t that I don’t enjoy cities. I loved Washington, DC, but never felt rushed as I did in Dublin.

I’m staying at the Kinlay House Hostel in Galway City Centre. Barnacles beats Kinlay in 1) room size and 2) room/hallways/bathroom scent. Our room smells somewhat of a gym locker room. But, I’m sitting in a cozy lounge right now, enjoying a cup of tea, and listening to the Beatles being played over the stereo system. Kinlay wins in overall common-area atmosphere. I’m in the middle of job-searching and flat-searching. I missed our complementary breakfast (consists of toast AND cereal – Barnacles only offered toast, one point Kinlay) by five minutes. I’d like to write more, but I also want to update you all with some photos, which is no easy task. So, without further ado, here are the latest scenes from Matt’s year abroad …

The grounds of Trinity College.

Trinity College.

The view from the cappuccino bar that I posted from earlier last week. The red window/door above the blue awning to the right is the window from my Barnacles hostel room. The door was open without a screen for the three nights we were in Dublin, and there were no bugs in our room. Pretty amazing.

Dublin.

The Department of the Taoiseach. The Taoiseach is the Irish Prime Minister.

The River Liffey in Dublin.

St. Patricks Cathedral

inside of St Patrick’s Cathedral.

A bar hymn … pretty funny.

Lunch at a pub outside of St. Pats. Sausages, beans, and chips. And of course, a Beamish Irish Stout. It was terrific!
A busy Dublin Street.

St. Stephens Green.

The hostel / bar in Aughrim.

An old cemetery outside of a church in Aughrim. We really found out how small the town was the next morning.

Brian on a small trail we found connecting part of the main part of Aughrim to a school.

View from the bus on the way in to Galway.

View from our hostel room in Galway. In the distance you can see Galway Bay.

The River Corrib which runs through Galway.

Galway Bay.
The sun setting over Galway.

And last, but certainly not least, is our meal from yesterday evening. We decided we would save some euros and went with the EUR1.20 jar of … stuff. Pickles, sauerkraut, peppers … it was … terrible. But it was cheap. What you can’t see in this picture is the accompanying can of Guinness!
We had pints last night with two guys from Australia who we roomed with two nights ago. Great Aussies (said with a Z apparently, not an S). Much of our conversation was spent inquiring about life in Australia … and their inquiring about life in the states. I was shocked to see how much of our American television and music is sent to Australia. One of the guys had a far better understanding of popular American tv shows than I did. They both were about a year out of college and up and decided to quit their jobs and spent four or five months traveling Europe. Why not now?

The job search shouldn’t be to difficult. Flat searching, on the other hand, may prove to be a painful procedure. Most places for rent are listed in a weekly publication, The Galway Advertiser. It comes out every Wednesday at 12pm. Flat searchers (many from one of Galway’s three or four colleges) line up early for a copy and leave the line already on their cell phones.

Brain and I will be with them tomorrow.

Technorati Tags: galway

Continue reading...

the village of aughrim

Saturday evening. A word of advice: If you find yourself in Ireland, on a Saturday night, and expect to spend the evening in a hostel in a major city – Dublin, Cork, Galway – make your reservations in advance. I originally booked three nights at Barnacles in Dublin. Yesterday was our last night with beds secured. Brian and I didn’t formulate a solid plan until mid afternoon today and it was 7pm by the time I began searching for a bed – not a good idea. This should have been evident when Brian and I checked out of Barnacles this morning and watched two women book beds at EUR50.00 a night.

No beds in Dublin, Cork, or Galway. The next thought was to get midway across the country. Brian and I referenced an Ireland hostel map and located The Auld Shillelagh – a bar / hostel in a village called Aughrim, County Galway. We called and found ourselves in luck – two of Valarie’s 12 beds were available at EUR 17.00 a night. As I write this it is 9:10pm and I’m sitting on a cramped bus heading towards Galway. The bus doesn’t actually stop in Aughrim but it passes through. Brian is in charge of following a map and asking the driver to stop so we can get off.

I hope you didn’t doubt Brian’s map skills – he recognized our stop about 5 kilometers before we needed to know it. The bus dropped us off with our packs directly along a highway heading to Galway. It was almost humorous as we stood with our packs in the exhaust of the bus as it pulled away. “Where’s the church,” we asked the driver. “I’m not sure,” he replied, “but the village of Aughrim is that way.” He motioned past a gas station and a short five minutes later we came within view of The Auld Shilleagh.

A barmaid showed us to our room equipped with two bunks. She questioned whether it was okay – compared to our 10-bed room at Barnacles, it was a palace. We dropped off our packs and made our way to the adjoining pub. As per the norm, we entered to find a comfortable pub with live music. We have yet to have pints during the evening and not be entertained by live music. Not surprisingly, we ordered two pints of Guinness. Soon after we sat down at the bar, we introduced ourselves to the old, Irish boy sitting behind us. Penny, as he introduced himself, gave us the rundown on Aughrim. “Not much left to Aughrim anymore.” he let us know. “We have three pubs, a church across the street, and a school.” Brian asked Penny how big Aughrim was. He informed us that they don’t actually describe villages such as this by population – but Aughrim, is home to about 110 families.

I was ready to leave Dublin. I greatly enjoyed the three nights I spent in the city, but I can’t imagine myself settling down in the city for the four months of my work permit. There were just so many people. Dublin is home to nearly 2/3 of Ireland’s population. I don’t think it was the total number of people that didn’t strike me right, it was more the close vicinity in which they were populated. This was especially evident today – Saturday – as Brian and I were making our way throughout the city centre. Most Dubliners had the day off and had taken to the streets to go shopping. You couldn’t walk down some streets without bumping into fellow walkers.

We made it to St. Pat’s Cathedral today before leaving Dublin – a massive church that was built nearly 1000 years ago. I’ll post pictures later but I’m sure they won’t do it justice. We stopped in at a pub before going to the cathedral to have lunch and a pint. Two Americans – a mother and father – sat down next to us. They were from Pennsylvania and had just arrived in Dublin. The mother was a typical mother and was full of questions about our history and our plans now that we were in Ireland. I had mentioned to her that I spent the fall semester of my senior year interning in DC. She followed up with, “Where you with The Washington Center?” One of her children is apparently considering interning with TWC in the future. Struck me as amazing – what a small world we live in.

As I write this I’m lying in bed getting ready to fall asleep – it is 2:28 local time. In Iowa City, it is 8:28. The Hawks are battling it out at Kinnick Stadium … I would hope winning. A couple hours ago at the pub, the guitarist played Sweet Caroline. Brian and I guessed that over 1,000 miles away, someone was playing Sweet Caroline at their tailgate – if not, I’m sure it was next up on the playlist at Bo James.

Continue reading...

James, P.J., and Peter

Today Brian and I found ourselves visiting Trinity College. My National Geographic Ireland book introduces the college campus as a break from the bustling city of Dublin. Immediately after entering the gates to campus, the sound of traffic from Dublin’s busy streets subsided. After entry through the gates, I found a beautiful, green campus full of visitors from all over the world. I thought how strange it would be to walk through campus in Iowa City and have to dodge visiting travelers. Trinity College also houses the Book of Kells – a decorated copy of the four gospels written in Latin. The monks of Iona (an island off of Scotland) produced the book early in the 9th century. Sometime in the 1600s, the book was sent to Dublin because of threats to its security. I found The Long Room in the main chamber of the Old Library much more awe-inspiring than the old book. The room was over 200 feet long and contained 250,000+ of the Library’s oldest books.

After visiting Trinity College’s campus, we made our way to St. Stephen’s Green – an enormous park in south Dublin. Today was a perfect, sunny, 70 degree day, and the park was full of Dubliners soaking up the rare sunshine filled afternoon.

The plan after strolling through St. Stephen’s Green was to head to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I interrupted our walk with the observation of a pub advertising €3 pints of Guinness and Budweiser. This has been by far the best deal on a pint of beer I’ve found in Dublin. The pub had the typical, old, Irish pub feel on the outside, but once we entered the pub the ambiance was much more new age. This new Irish pub feel was quickly turned on its side by a number of old, Irish, boys Brian and I met.

P.J. was the old boy behind the bar who greeted us with, “Can I get you boys a pint of Budweiser?” Ironically, nearly everyone in the bar was drinking pints of Budweiser – I guess to them it is an import (I tried one as well. It actually tasted much different than Budweiser in the states. Almost like a Heinken). We quickly stood out as soar thumbs in a bar full of native Irishmen. On view, I imagine most native to the country can identify us as tourists – perhaps even Americans. The second we open our mouth, I’m sure we scream American tourist.

Midway through our first pint one of the old boys came over and started up a conversation with us. Where were we from in the states, he inquired. Iowa. Iowa? We told him where it was located but he still seemed to be unfamiliar with the location. James, as he introduced himself, had a thick, Irish, accent. Until today, I’ve had no trouble understanding the Irish accent. It took some work to focus on what the old boys we met tonight were saying. James was full of advice and provided much insight as to his thoughts on the states. He was nothing but kind to us, however it wasn’t difficult to sense his distaste for the states as a whole. Yet, he kept insisting that he was going to be the next president. Peter later introduced himself. He had recently visited the states to attend the wedding of one of his nephews in New York City. “I insisted to my family that I wouldn’t go,” he told me. “But, on last thought I gave in and made the six hour flight to New York. I got off the plane, exited the automatic doors of the airport, and felt the blast of hot air from outside. I told myself then I’d never again visit New York!” He did tell me how much he wanted to go back and visit the Grand Canyon. I ended up having about a 3o minute conversation with Peter over a Guinness. He was a great guy with no more than four teeth.

One last memory of the evening. Brian and I were bellied up to the bar when a college aged Irishman looked in our general direction and motioned to come talk to him. I did the old look both directions thing because I didn’t expect he was talking to me. When I looked back at him he said, “You, American, come over here.” I couldn’t help but laugh. David was quite drunk and had an accent thicker than the pint of Guinness I was drinking.

So we didn’t make it to St. Pats. We did however stumble into a bar that gave us our first true feel of the old Irish.

Continue reading...

pictures.

So it has been no easy task to get some pictures uploaded onto here – either way, I have some below for your viewing pleasure! I may decide to share photos through an online journal – if I go that route, I will provide you all with a link. They don’t quite fit when my post is published, if you click on each one, you can see the full shot. Enjoy!

View from the top of the Guinness Brewery Storehouse. There was a bar called the Gravity Bar which provided 360 degree views of Dublin. I took in the view while enjoying a complimentary pint of Guinness which I poured myself. In fact, it was a ‘perfect pour’ and I have a certificate to prove it!

A shot of the Dublin Castle.

My first true Irish Coffee. It was delicious. Strong black coffee, irish whiskey, brown sugar, and fresh whipped cream. A great pick-me-up on my first, jeg-lagged, night in Dublin at the Temple Bar.
A nighttime view of the River Liffey. It’s about as clean as the Iowa River!

Advertisement at the Guinness Brewery.

Can you read the text? If not, here it is:

Why do you drink Guinness? It was a question Guinness’s first advertising agency asked the men and women they found enjoying a pint or two in Dublin’s pubs. “Because Guinness is good for me,” was the answer they heard over and over again. And no wonder.

At the time, nursing mothers and patients recovering from illness were prescribed Guinness. Offered to people who had just donated blood, Guinness was a popular alternative to a cup of tea. Doctors wrote to the company in their thousands with letters just like this:

“I often prescribe Guinness, and for the following reasons in chief. A bottle of Guinness put in front of, say a dispirited patient has a wonderfully cheer producing effect. It looks potent and jolly and when consumed it acts as a stomachic and whip to the appetite. It makes the patient feel better and eat better and think cheerfully.”

So Guinness was just what the doctor ordered.

Brian pouring his own perfect pint!

A view of the sun rising over the Atlantic. An amazing sight.

Our first pints of Guinness!

Our first pints at the Temple Bar.

The Temple Bar. Notice our 80 pound backpacks! I couldn’t figure out how to rotate the image, so please, rotate your head.

Farewell shots of Jager with the folks. Miss you guys! The next shot of Jager (or two or three) would be with one, Gerry Lee.

Navagating the metro in DC with our packs. I’m attempting not to fall over.

Shots with Gerry Lee. He refused to look at the camera. Brian and I are convinced he is running from something or someone.

The packs!

Lori’s dog, Chili. The most timid dog of that size I’ve ever met! He was great though.

Continue reading...