Totally knackered.

Well, I finally have Internet access again (and new pictures fit for sharing). This entry may be a little longer than the last ones because so much has happened. Let's put the (b)log into chronological order!

I had very little desire to get myself out of bed on Monday. I went into Dublin with Maria at our usual 6:10 and grabbed the Luas (lrt) to the immigration office. It was pouring and being the diehard weather fan that I am, I have yet to invest in an umbrella. I made it to the immigration office to get my Garda card at 7:40 and was 76th in line. If any of you have been to a passport office at a peak time, you can visualize what this looked like. I hate to say the word 'unfortunately', but Canadians are as sickeningly polite as other nationalities have described us--at least in comparison to what I encountered at this immigration office. Pushing, outside voices, kids running around screaming--that would have been a treat. I basically just left and walked around, periodically making my way back to see how fast people were being helped. Maybe now is a good time to explain that getting this Garda card is a mandatory thing for anyone staying in the country for an extended period of time and that if you don't pay them the 150 euro, travel in and out of the country will basically not happen. Then they fine you, and I'm fine enough already. Either way, one dorky picture ID, two and a half hours' worth of twitches, and three hours later, I was onto my next task. I went to the USIT office, which is my resource centre in Dublin, and I worked on my CV so I could have them look it over in preparation for job applications. I also needed a "letter of residence" to take with me to my third task, which was applying for a PPS. I got out of there in about an hour and a half and made my way to the bus station, both my dismal, necessary tasks complete and a smile on my face.
I've been walking a lot because it's pretty much my only means of transportation. If you know me at all, you will know that I would rather take a 45 minute walk than to try and figure out the city bus schedule. Taking the bus to Arklow wasn't too bad on my own until I got off and started walking back to Maria's. Ireland has a lot of mini roundabouts, and the bus let me off at one such roundabout down the hill from Maria's. I had two roads to choose from. I was never good with probabilty and statistics, but really, what are the odds that I would choose the wrong one? If you know me at all... After climbing the giant hill and being 100% sure I was on the wrong road, I really didn't feel like turning around only to have to climb another ridiculously big hill, so I just continued on, hoping that eventually it would lead me back to a place I recognized. A walk that should have taken me 15 minutes took me about 35--no big deal. I crashed pretty hard that night in preparation for the fun to follow on Tuesday. Yes, onto the good stuff.

I got a cheap bus ticket to Cork from Dublin for Tuesday because I was so tired of walking around Dublin. Plus, being in Dublin all day meant I would be up at 5:30 every morning, and I was getting tired. I wasn't convinced I wanted to find a job in Dublin, so I asked Maria about it, and she said, "Yeah, I can see you living in Cork." A simple statement that had me convinced to hop on a bus and venture south.

Best. Idea. Ever.

I didn't book a room at the hostel or a hotel before I went because I figured I would get to Cork and get acquainted with it a bit before settling on a place to stay. Note to fellow adventurers/future Meagan: Next time you go to an unknown city with no place to stay, swap your Godforsaken 20 pound bag for an umbrella and a city map! I didn't think my bag was too heavy until it was attached to me for 3 hours as I wandered through one of the coolest cities I've ever seen. It rained pretty profusely in random intervals, so I was a little haggard when I finally settled into a hotel. I stopped at a place called Newport Bar & Bistro and had what I would consider Chef Boyardee's gourmet sauce inspiration. The food was super tasty (as was the bartender), but it tasted a bit like Chef Boyardee. I found a hotel on the internet via my mobile device, and it was near the hostels I'd been looking at, so I figured if they didn't have room, I would suck it up and share one. This probably would have been my best bet anyway but I was exhausted and wanted to treat myself to a long shower in my own bathroom. The hotel was super neat, having been built in 1810. The two pictures here are from the entrance. There's a big rock waterfall at the end where the restaurant is. I chilled out in my room for a while (with no internet and limited telly), and though I was fully prepared to just have a shower and pass out, I couldn't bring myself to do it. It took a bit of effort, but I pulled myself together long enough to venture back out of the hotel--which (again) if you know me at all--is a pretty big accomplishment in itself. I walked back across the river to the big shopping area to find a pharmacy and came back to a pub near the hotel. I wasn't really hungry, but I figured I would have a pint and go back to my room to prepare for the next day. One turned into three. The bartender started chatting with me, which led to me talking to his friends, which were sitting next to me at the bar. They were super friendly and told me to come back on the weekend because there would be about 40 of them there. Depending on how tomorrow goes, I may just come back. I need a day or so to recoup though. I definitely won't be bringing that ridiculous backpack if I come back.

Either way, I had pretty much the most fantastic shower ever, which I wasn't expecting because there was this weird quarter-door thing on the bathtub that I guess was supposed to act as the shower door? It was completely open on the top and a full half of the bathtub. Very strange. I slept like a rock, minnus the three times the radiator banged loudly when it started up--at least I hope it was the radiator...

Maria told me to check out a town called Clonakilty in West Cork, so I got a ticket there this morning after breakfast and wandered around until it left. I managed to find another SPAR with a Tim Hortons machine in it, and I'm pretty sure the guy thought I was crazy when I asked him if I could take a picture. The coffee in this one was much better than the first one and reminded me of real Tim Hortons from home. The trip to Clonakilty was about an hour, and the scenery on the way was great. The sun was out today, so I got pretty lucky when I hopped off the bus about a mile out of town. There was a footpath leading to the town, so it wasn't terrible walking along the highway. The weather was just too good for me to resist. I was told I had to try Clonakilty's famous "Black & White pudding", so I stopped in at a pub after about an hour of walking around to get a pint and some lunch. I had no idea what I was ordering, just that it was supposed to be super tasty. It was a little different, but was extremely tasty and filling. Apparently black pudding is a sausage made of pig parts (like the liver, spleen, etc) and they cook it with what I think was barley and spices and serve it with potatoes. Maybe a good thing I went in not knowing what it was? At least I wasn't surprised when I got it.

The bus back to Cork left at 3:30 and I was done lunch by 2, so I walked around for half an hour, grabbed an ice cream cone, and sat in the sun for another half an hour. I walked to the bus stop (the one going back to Cork was in town, so it wasn't a far walk) and waited patiently with my burden on my back. My one objective when I got back to the city was to find a room at a hostel. I still had my accommodation vouchers, so I was able to stay for free. Unfortunately, the hostel is at the top of a steep hill. Sigh. Nothing's ever easy, is it? I got a 4 bed dorm, which is better than the 16 bed I was expecting with my voucher. Remember when you were younger and it was so much fun to take the top bunk? It still is, and this is how sad the state of me is right now: I took the bottom bunk. Don't judge me. I'm really sore. I'm heading back to Dublin tomorrow, but I'm going to hang out in Cork in the morning for a bit. Hopefully the sun is still shining because I really don't want to be applying for jobs looking like a wet dog.

I'll try to get some pictures of St. Patrick's Street because it's incredible down there. However, given my complete lack of desire to do anything for at least a day after I get back to Arklow, you won't be updated for another few days. This should sustain you. Take care, friends. And never take your Tims for granted. Ever.

Drunken Lullabies

Hello, friends. I haven't updated in a couple of days because I didn't want to without new pictures. However, I'm bloody lazy and haven't taken my camera out in a few days. To keep the interest of you, my followers, I thought I should let you know that I'm not dead in an Irish ditch somewhere.

I went into Dublin with Maria, her mum, and her mum's friend Deirdre, on Friday because I fully expected to get my Garda stuff settled, work on my resume, get my PPS (Irish equivalent of a SIN...you know, the 8th, not nearly as deadly one). Part of that happened. The resume bit. I got to the immigration office to find a queue of about 100 people with an additional 100 sitting down, so I said "feck it" and worked on my resume.

I didn't want to apply for any jobs dressed the way I was, so I wandered around Dublin for about two hours before decided on lunch and a cinematic adventure. I went to a pub called Maddigans's, which would have been the oldest pub I've ever seen if I hadn't been to the Brazen Head, had lunch, and ventured to the theatre to kill some time before Maria got off work. Of course, me being as magnetic as I am, I attracted a crazy dude with long hair and no teeth who was on and on about the north etc etc. Do I produce a special chemical that brings crazy people to me? I'd wager yes.

I went to see Alice in Wonderland at a theatre called Savoy. It was pretty nifty. I managed to get into the theatre where they do a bunch of premieres and things. It was HUGE, with red curtains and everything. Definitely wasn't designed for some Cineplex-loving Canadian tourist.

Maria and I caught the bus home with her younger brother Greg (who is a year older than me), and watched a movie called the Magdelene Sisters when we got home. It was a true story based on the Magdelene Asylums in Ireland in the 60s where young, unmarried, pregnant girls were sent.

We spent the day today relaxing, for the most part. Hung some laundry to dry, made some dinner (fettucine alfredo..yes, I'm that good), and watched Titanic over a couple of bottles of wine. I'll be back in Dublin on Monday to actually get my Garda stuff sorted, and then I may be making a trip down to Cork to see what life there is like. Why not, right?

I'll be sure to keep you posted as my trip progresses, but be sure to keep me updated because I miss Canada like mad.

Pog Mo Thoin

Rain, rain, go away, come again when I'm not hungover.
Well, folks, there are two things I have learned about the Irish life on this, the 18th of March. First, although this is the only day I've had the pleasure of experiencing it, Irish rain is as dreadfully cold and incessant as I was led to believe. Second, while the locals definitely know how to party it up in celebration of their patron saint, you should never, under any circumstance, allow these locals to talk you into "just one more". Maria and I spent the day at her mum's place and walked down to the parade in Arklow rather than risking the Dublin crowd. Of course, this included a pint in the "beer gardens", which is actually just what they call an outdoor patio behind a pub. We followed this with a bottle of wine with her family (yes, a bottle each) and chicken "kebabs". While I was expecting chicken on a stick, I was pleasantly surprised by a chicken pita with purple and green cabbage and a delicious semi-spicy sauce. Super tasty.

We headed out to a bar called D'Arcy McGees to start (4 pints in), and walked to a busier Sally O'Briens (I lost count of the pints we had there). Both of us were pretty locked, but we still managed to chat up some local firemen. Maybe that was just me. After we closed the bar down, we walked to the place with the kebabs--strictly because it was on the way home, of course. Poor Maria had to be up at 6 this morning to go to work. After how much we drank last night, I honestly don't know how she did it. Being unemployed sure has its perks the day after a bank holiday.

Don't worry, I'll be looking for a job tomorrow. And maybe a Tim Horton's. They're here somewhere. I'm pretty convinced that if I follow the rainbow, I will find it at the end since it's basically the pot of gold for me. I miss good coffee. *sigh*

Guinness--er, business--as usual.

Well, I've managed to get a bit more settled into Maria's place here in Arklow, and I figured I should work on a blog to keep everyone updated on my drunken shenanigans (and, well, the sober ones too).

The 9 hour flight was brutal, mostly because I hate planes, but Maria took me for my very first Irish beer in my very first Irish pub. Perfect welcome to the country, I'd say. For the record, Guinness over here is actually good. And no, they didn't serve it to me warm. Must be a... British thing?

I had to get up early Monday to go to my SWAP orientation. Maria works in Dublin, so she leaves early to get there. Luckily for me, the place I had to go was within walking distance of her office, so I had some coffee (NOT Tim Horton's...yikes) and went on my way. My orientation wasn't until 11, and I was in Dublin by 7:30, so I walked around the Temple Bar area (a cool little shopping centre with cobbly streets), and I hit up a Guinness store and a place to get some postcards. I was unfortunately the only person in the orientation. I was hoping to meet some fellow travelers, but the girl did say they had socials and things periodically, so I'm sure I'll get to meet some eventually. After the orientation, I did manage to make my way to The Brazen Head Pub, which is the oldest pub in Ireland. It was pretty nifty. Definitely a good way to kill an hour or two.

I went to bed super early last night to try and get over my jet lag... I slept for a pretty solid 17 hours. Maria and Mark both had to work today, so I had the house to myself. I walked down to the Tesco, which is a big store (sort of like Superstore, but not r-tardedly busy). I decided I'd make some Nanaimo bars for them, since they're bloody delicious and something not a lot of Irish people know about.

I've only had a few issues, mostly with the damned Irish appliances. I couldn't get the shower to run on Monday (you'd think a start/stop button would be enough...but noooo), then trying to cook my fettucine alfredo tonight, I couldn't get the stove to work. Who has an on/off switch for the stove located BEHIND the stove? Really? Doors here are a bit strange too... some kid on a scooter definitely saw me struggling to lock it. Don't judge me!

Alright kiddies, that's it for now. I have very important preparation (sleep) to do for tomorrow's adventures. Maria's taking me into Dublin in the morning for the St.Patty's day parade, and then drink, drank, drunk!