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.