Goodbye, my lovely Ireland.

Oh how I will miss you so! 

I suppose it’s time to write about my time after Cork. I stayed in the train station for a few hours until my train arrived. I met a lovely lady travelling to Dublin. I spoke to her about my journey so far, and her’s in America several years back. She was so warm and welcoming, like most here. God, I love this country more than anything. I have never enjoyed myself so much “alone” before. I put “alone” in paranthesis because, I rarely felt alone here. There was always a kind face, and a welcoming embrass wherever I went. And free pints, as well ;) As previously stated, I truly felt like I belonged here. 

In part, that’s because of the people I met in Killarney. Killarney is about an hour or two trainwise from Cork. Once I arrived, I checked in my B&B, ate, and passed out. It was around 5pm before I got my first sleep in nearly 48 hours. Once I woke, I wondered about town for awhile, looking for a man called Charlie Foley. Allen, from the night before, told me specifically to find him and met him, cause he’d be one to take care of me. 

Well, I met Charley Foley, and he didn’t seem to enthusiastic about his nephew. So I wasn’t welcomed as told, at first. I sat there and drank for a minute, and tried to chime in when I could with a convo the man sitting next to me was having with his brother, the barman. There names were Jerry, and John (respectively). They were going on about drinks, and I called them ridiculous, as only I would. That was my ticket in. The rest of the night I spent talking to Jerry, and John when he was free, about drinks and politics. The Irish sure love drinks and politics! Later on, Charley Foley seemed to warm up to me, and bought me a drink and invited me to visit his other pub down the road. Soon after, everyone was buying my a drink. Mostly Jerry though, only cause I have never had most of the drinks over here. It was fun, meeting him. It helped me realize how outgoing I can be, and how I didn’t necessarily need some by my side all the time (aiding me with my inquisitive shyness at first) to enjoy myself. 

After that bar closed around half past twelve, we went to a bar called Mustang Sally’s, which is a dancing as well as a drinking bar (City tap meets The Attic for instance). I met a few of Jerry’s young friends/relatives, ones who were actually my age. Finally! Some people in their early twenties (20-22). The others were always 26-36! I sat and talked to them for awhile. They took me under their wing, sort of speak, teaching me the ways of the Irish. They taught me slang, how to properly speak to someone, etc… I loved every moment of it, especially because it was all so new and completely random. The people, the culture. I just soaked it in as much as possible. I was learning the Irish ways, and fitting in even more so before the hour was up!

Later, Jerry walked me home. He told me about the town, and his family. Just bullshitting the entire time. He reminded me somewhat of a friend from back home. I took great comfort in him. He was kind, and sweet. He tried to look after me as much as anyone could. He kissed my cheek goodnight, and gave me a hug. We made plans to see each other the following night. 

In the morning, I took a tour of the Ring of Kerry, part of Ireland that I was named after. I have never been hungover, but that day, I was. It was worse because I was in a little buggie, on an uneven road. It took all  I had to not vomit every few feet. That’s what happens when all my drinks are free so long as I match the Irish drink of drink! It sure was gorgeous, though. Some photos are already up, so one can see how lovely the Ring Of Kerry really is. It’s a bizarre area as well. In an hour’s span, I saw sunshine, rain, hail, clouds, clear skies and rainbows. It was magnificent though. The tiny towns we passed by were gorgeous, and had the best soup I have ever had in my entire life. There are three things that I would miss about this country and they are: the people, the free drinks, and the soup. YUM. On this trip, I met other Americans (Finally!) as well as Australians. It was wonderful spending the day bonding with them, sharing our exercise and learning how different they are (even with the fellow Americans). 

After the trip, I went to bed. I had only two hours of sleep thus far. I slept for three, and went back out to Foley’s. I was under the impression that I was suppose to meet Jerry around 8pm, as he said the previous night. That didn’t happen. For the first hour, I was continuously fighting off men trying to stroke my arm or my hair. There was even a couple of friends trying to play a game with me, like in the movies. One would be a complete asshole, then the other would swoop in and save the poor girl from him and take her home for the night. They tried with me, but were unsuccessful. Luckily, Jerry showed up towards the end of that. I pretended to be with him until they left. Then, Jerry and I sat and drank a few pints while some of his brothers and friends trickled in. I spent the night talking, drinking, and shooting the shit with them. When that wasn’t happening, Jerry’s brother Mike was commenting on how lovely my bum appeared to be, even though it was “big” for him. Mike was piss drunk, so I excused it by laughing and simply telling him to “fuck off”. Once Foley’s closed for the night, we again went to Mustang Sally’s to drink and dance a little. It was extremely fun because Mustang’s played old American songs, ones that are barely ever, if than, are on the radio. Later on, Jerry again walked me home, kissed my cheek and said he’d see me the following day. 

That was the last time I saw Jerry. The next day was Christmas Eve, and all that I met seemed to work. I spent in extremely late and just walked around town, ate, and then went back to the room to sleep again. Christmas day, although many offered to have me for dinner, I spent with those staying in my B&B, sharing food and drinks that were given to us the day before. It was a lovely day. I got to talk to many people from back home, who I missed dearly. It helped me tough base again with myself, and what was happening around me. 

The day after Christmas here is known as Boxing Day, or St. Steven’s day. Friends in Killarney worked that day as well, so I was on my own. I found a cute bar called Murphy’s, and once again drank for free for several hours. I hadn’t eaten, and so after only 3-4 pints I was starting to see double. My first time experiencing such a phenomenon, ha! I met a wonderful older couple, Katherine and Don. Katherine was exactly like me, only thirty to forty years older. We shared our life experiences, and our views about certain topics like politics, the homeless, clothing, shopping, and traveling. She saw that I was reading Nicky Sparks, of course, and insisted I send her the book when I’m done. I took her name and address down, as did she mine for she wanted to knit me a scarf (because we both shared an extreme love for scarves). Later, once all were good and intoxicated, I slipped out to find food. I ate at a lovely restaurant called Smoke House. I stopped in several bars on the way to see if they were selling food; they weren’t. But whenever I walked into a bar that day, all male eyes were on me. It was eerie in a way. I’d only seen such reactions in movies, but there I was living in them. The Smoke House was a lovely eatery that reminded me of Tommy’s from CLE. I LOVE THEIR SOUP. Cannot express that enough! 

After Boxing Day, I returned to Cork, hoping to see friends I met the previous week. I saw some, not all. It was nice coming back to something familiar. It’s odd to think of this place as familiar already, seeing how I spent no more time there than Killarney, or any other place abroad. It just had that feeling about it. I wasn’t nervous, or scared. I knew were I was going, and who’d I most likely see. I liked that feeling. 

I spent some time reading at the Shelbourne, and drinking at the Bru Bar. I saw friendly faces that I knew, and it again just felt good to have that familiarity, and to see these people happy that you came back even for one night. I drank for a little bit, and went off to bed around one. I was so tired from the lack of sleep the previous day. I couldn’t sleep though. I went to bed around one and woke up around five or so. I decided to visit Jeff again downstairs, thinking he’d like company to keep him awake. We just sat and talked for a little, listened to music; I tried to sleep on the couch while he cleaned. He flirted like he always did, and asked about Allen from last week. It was better than being in my empty room upstairs, but very relaxing at the same time. Just what I needed. 

We said our goodbyes when Jeff left for home. I did not sleep, once again. I don’t understand it, but I cannot sleep in Cork for whatever reason. I walked around town, tried a little bit of shopping, before I went back to the hostel to get ready for my plane to England. There I saw some people I met the night before. We chit-chatted and drank. I had to chug my beers while my taxi cab waited outside. I was totally drunk when I got to the airport, and the entire way to England. It was great. It was a very fitting departure from my time in Ireland. Several pints and a few Sláintes…..Ah, I miss it already.