Cows...

You would never think that cows would be a topic that you might find in a travel blog but here it is. When I lived in Belgium I was astounded by the size and shape of their cows. They were scary, a cross of a body builder who had overdosed on steroids and morphed into a cow. This breed is called the Belgian Blue. On further research the Belgian Blue, also dubbed the Incredible Hulk cow, has a genetic mutation in the gene myostatin that counteracts muscle growth. My understanding of this is that not only can the cows not stop growing muscle but this also caused them to grow lean muscles, so they have very little fat on them. The Belgian Blue is basically one big ball of muscle, which causes it to look discussing. (Gentlemen, please keep that in mind, not that we want you flabby but we don’t want you to look like a Belgian Blue.)

In Ireland they don’t have Incredible Hulk cows as in Belgium, they just have monstrously huge cows. They don’t look any different then the cows in the states, they are brown and white or black and white but just three times the size. Desmond my wonderful bus driver to the Cliffs of Moher was full of stories and one of them was about the Irish cows. Desmond wove the story about a desperate farmer that one night didn’t have any water for his cows so before he went to bed he gave them Guinness to drink instead. The next morning the farmer woke up to find his cows had turned black and white! So the next night the farmer gave his other flock of cows Harps and by morning they had all turned brown and white. So now the Irish call black and white cows Guinness cows and brown and white cows Harp cows.    

In the city...

I have always prided myself on my since of direction. I am good with picking out landmarks and not getting turned around and if I do I can usually find my way back. Maps have always been fun for me and I take pride in being able to navigate through cities.

Yesterday I arrived at the Avalon Hostel around 11:15, I stored my luggage and headed out with a map that my cab driver gave me while in route to my hostel. I headed north west towards the city center and immediately got myself lost, I decided not to look at my map and instead just kept walking. I ended up running strait into the main drag Grafton St, which is a posh walking street with shops like Armani and Lacrosse. Each city seems to have one of these. I ducked off of it as fast as I could and headed for the park, typical…

I ended up hitting most of the large tourist attractions south of the Liffey in Dublin’s city center, The National Gallery, St. Stevens Green, Merrion Square, Grafton St., Trinity College (including the book of Kells and the famous Library) Powers Court House, Bank of Ireland, etc.  After realizing that I had been walking in circles for a while I decided to head towards my hostel because I was starting to wilt.

 I stopped and grabbed a cup of tea as the rain that had been threatening to break loose all afternoon finally came down. I snuggled into the coffee shop’s couch and reflected on how rewarding traveling by myself has been. I can stop, have a cup of tea and sit and read my book or walk through the park and people watch. Tourist buss passengers wave to me thinking I am a local and I am treated as one until I open my mouth. I can spend as much time in a museum as I want. I don’t feel the need to stare down each painting I simply skip the ones that don’t appeal to me and absorb those that pull in my attention. I am never waiting on someone else or having to consider what they would want to do. It is rewarding and refreshing. I have never in my life been able to be totally selfish and self absorbed. I have always had obligations to someone or something other than myself. I am able to feel what is comfortable for me and make it happen.

That evening I was exhausted but had planned on going on the pub crawl that my hostel hosted. Waiting for it to start I decided I needed some food, I got a recommendation from the cute Irish guy manning the desk, who I could not understand, and headed out. Only to find that it was poring rain. I walked a few blocks, drenching my pants and ducked into a 24hour convenient store.

Deciding on a hearty dinner of a French roll, some onion cheese spread and a strawberry yogurt, I stuffed it into my purse and ran back to the hostel. After inhaling my food I read a bit of my book and passed out on my bed in my still wet jeans and sweater. Later waking long after the pub crawl had commenced to yells from the street from over zealous international frat boys.

I headed downstairs and got into an intense 30 second dance competition with two guys playing pool, not a word was spoken. I grabbed my dry sweats and headed back to bed. Over all it was a rewarding and productive day! 

Day One

Dublin Airport, 6:53am. It is a totally beautiful day, sunny and clear not a cloud around which I hear is unheard of.

I left this morning from SFO and my flight was running late. So as my connecting flight was boarding we hadn’t even touched down in Boston and I was sweating, and white nuckled. Once we touched down I had to get a boarding pass from a different terminal that was across the airport, I dashed down the corridors and tried to make it on time, but it was already 6:20 the time my flight to Dublin was to be taking off. After cutting numerous old people off and getting lost a few times I found my way to the ticket counter, which ended up calling the gate and holding the plane for me!

I had to go through security again, luckily the line was not long and I raced through. While putting my belt back on I somehow looped it through my backpack, oops… This made a rather embarrassing scene when I finally got to the plan and everyone was in their seat and I come running in sweaty and out of breath.  As I tried to sit quickly and stealthily, I reach to remove my backpack and it will not budge… Lovely, I have turned into a dear in the headlights as the whole cabin stairs as I take off my belt, simultaneously dropping my passport and numerous other documents on the floor. I think I really freaked out Steve, my seat buddy because instead of saying, “hello I’m Oce I think this is my seat…” I start taking off my pants! Not the most graceful entrance I have ever had.  Hopefully the rest of the day turns out well!