GOOD EVENING.

i’m writing to you from Stirling, UK. two days ago, i left the rainy shores of Northern Ireland for the rainy shores of Scotland. I’ll be staying with my friend Becca for a bit, and have my days free. no worrying about where i’ll be sleeping. no wondering where my next meal will come from. no praying for someone to pick up a hitchhiker in a social climate where people are beheaded on greyhound buses.

sitting down now with proper time to write, i’m finding that I don’t know where to start. so, I’ll fill everyone in on my injury.

i sprained my thumb. this is my first sprain/break/compound anything – basically anything that needed medical attention.

what you see on my hand is a splint that was molded and fitted to my hand by a doctor that is paid a lot of money to do what he does. how much did it cost me? nothing. how much would it have cost me if i didn’t have travel insurance? nothing. how much would it have cost me in the states? a lot.

i didn’t realize health care was so great over here. and the kicker is that this isn’t as good as it gets. in france, after a couple has a child, the government sends someone to their household to do anything – cooking, cleaning, washing, etc. – for the next two months. wowzers.

i injured my thumb while hiking in Northern Ireland on a path called the Causeway Coastline. it starts near Portrush, and follows the north coastline all the way to Ballycastle. It passes the geological phenomenon called Giant’s Causeway. it’s a series of hexagonal basalt spires jutting out of the ground here and there, forming a few recognizable shapes (steps, an organ, a chair, etc.). the rock-nerd in me was happy.

shortly thereafter I continued on my way towards Ballycastle, then fell in the mud with one hand outstretched that just happened to hit the one errant rock in the entire hiking path. thus, sprained thumb. the splint is odd, to say the least. a mix of michael jackson with a bit of old lady/doile thrown in. i’m supposed to keep it on for two weeks. like that’s going to happen.

a few days in Belfast, a few days in Glascow (if I chose to live in a city over here – Glascow in a second), and now I find myself in Stirling with nothing but time.

pictures to follow. seriously this time.

PS – £5 to the person who identifies the originator of the greeting i used at the beginning of this entry.

i’m going to skip some more-than-worthy material and write as if you’re all up to speed. i’ll fill you in on the rest later.

i’m at a hostel in galway, located on the coast opposite of dublin. it’s a college town, though and through. breifly sampling it’s nightlife yesterday was well worth the 10euro spent on a pint and small portion of food. i couldn’t even tell you the name of the pub, but there was trad (traditional irish music) echoing through the doorway, which is what made me wander inside in the first place. great environment.

amplified only by a hanging omnidirtectional microphone (something The Pips might sing into), four or five lads crammed themselves into the front corner of the pub and played to their hearts content. some songs, i found, were improvised… in a sense. one member would lay down a rhythmic pattern and repeat it over and over. the other members would join in with something that complimented the first. as time went on they would shift the initial option from member to member. it was all very organic.

this is my first stay in a hostel. not just on this trip, but in life. if anyone reading this hasn’t had the pleasure before, just think dorms… but more cramped. the change in company is very welcome (i.e. before this, i had none at all aside from hosts). and the spread of the clientelle is something of a marvel; babies to the ederly. i have seen three infants so far and the old couple kicked my ass at scrabble last night.

being packed in a small space with 6 people you don’t know can be a risk, any shared taxi ride will tell you that much. but all my roommates are kind enough. running into americans has become somewhat of a trend, and i won’t complain too much about it. however… it would be nice to meet some folks from a country i didn’t grow up in. just for a change pace, is all i’m saying.

while this update is (again) lacking pictures, i have taken a few. (i.e. 200 or so). and i will upload them at some point. most likely when i get to a friend’s house in sterling, UK. though, that might not be for a week or so. watch my flickr page or the portolfio page on this site.

cheers.

so, from here on out until i get to UK, internet is going to be hard to find. meaning pics and updates will be few and far between (not that i’m saying they’ve been abundant before this).  hopefully i can find time to give a proper update once in Stirling, UK. like for pictures and such.

stay tuned.

GOOD EVENING,

i am rounding out day four here on the proverbial road. i haven’t actually hit the pavement yet, but monday will bring either a train ticket or a hitching thumb. either or, i’m ready for it.

i arrived in dublin int’l early wednesday morning (losing six hour from the states to europe). the plane ride was top notch: nowhere near full. in fact, most people took hold of the four seats in the middle, laying down and stretching out. i, being of short height, gave mine up to those who needed it. a short dinner and a shorter sleep period, and we were in dublin at 8:00am.

ireland is 6 hours ahead of the US. when i usually go to bed (midnight), is bright and shiny morning in the land o’ the green. so, needles to say, things took a bit of time to adjust. four days in, i think i’m successfully living in the right time zone. i’ll still take some sleeping pills each night just to make sure.

after arriving in dublin city centre from the airport, i had time to kill (roughly eight hours) until i could go and see what my host, ed, to offer in terms of a spare bedroom. the jet lag made it a particularly rough day, in addition to the 40lb pack which was meant to be carried over landscape, not cityscape. the tent i’m carrying stuck out the sides, i hadn’t found a good place for my books, and my waterbottles kept hitting me in the elbow. near 1:00pm, i boarded a bus out to a dublin suburb, blanchardtown.

people there were nice enough, pointing me in the right direction to get to my ed’s address. the surroundings were pleasant: a charming little township, it’s roots stuck in the past, updated storefronts and technology here and there. walking down roselawn drive, the houses were tightly packed, as is common here. so you can forgive me if i didn’t notice the black sheep of the neighborhood, tucked away in a filth hole so far from endearing i thought the place was abandoned. yet, sure enough, the key was left under the rug just as ed had said it would be. inside, the carpet smelled of mold and a myriad of shoes littered the entryway. no art or prints of any kind were on the wall. the living room was full of throw away couches and a broken television. the kitchen populated by fully molded over pots and pans and a knee-high stack of garbage in the corner. i followed the stairs up and went into the right-most room. my room. though, i should state that it was a room only in definition: four walls and a bed.

the entire house was of questionable nature. i wasn’t sure if they owned the place or were squating. for an hour, i debated if i should stay the night or bolt. i decided the former. that was the night i went to get the sleeping pills. i took three at 9:00pm. 14 hours of medicated sleep later, i awoke. 11:00am. much too late.

just outside the house after not taking a shower (due to their lack of one), i heard my name from the upstairs window. ed, my host. he rushed down (having just woken up himself), and checked in with me. he was a kind guy, worried if i had gotten accomidated, and he couldn’t have been more willing to serve. his house was just a shit hole. he told me that we would see me the next day, and we could cook or something. knowing i wouldn’t be around and having seen what this household called ‘cooking,’ i still agreed.

that day was the true start of my vacation. i wandered the streets of city centre with a simply daypack with my lunch and enough euro to last me. i got off the bus early, purposefully throwing myself into unknown territory. i walked, bought a phone, found a decent watch, and saw some irish malls. from there i wandered up grafton street and caught a glimpse at some buskers in their element. hitting st stephans green, i sat down, ate lunch, and read from a book ms. kessler loaned me. from there, i b-lined it to the archeology and history museum, met up with a random group of locals and enjoyed a dinner before a movie. all in all – enjoyable. another night was helped by sleeping pills, and i said goodbye to ed in the morning.

the bus ride into city center plus the ride to my next host on the other side of the city took nearly two hours. but trust me when i say it was worth it.

pictures to come.