finally, the blog! a recap so far

after 8 days in europe, i finally got settled enough to start blogging about my trip. i'll do a tiny recap to make up for lost time:

I started in London, staying at family friend (now at least) Melinda's apartment in East London. Melinda and her husband Aaron were so wonderful to me, incredibly welcoming and kind, and we had a really great time together. It was exactly what I needed on my jet-lagged first night in London- some very inviting and down-to-earth hosts! We went to an awesome little gourmet pizza joint for dinner and chatted over some beers. I had a hot shower, slept on their very comfy couch and woke to a delicious breakfast they had made, the three of us had a very nice morning. Their dog Sassy was super sweet as well. They gave me a hand-written map of where to explore in London before I left. They were so sweet and extremely cool. Thanks again, Melinda and Aaron! Good luck on your road trip and settling back in Portland.

The second night I stayed at a really nice hostel in the swanky Kensington area of London, home to some great museums, Hyde Park, and a lot of Maseratis, among other expensive vehicles. I hung out with some Aussies and called it an early one, as jet lag was in full swing.

The third night I migrated to Camden Town, which is a young, hip area of London. I wanted to be close to my tube stop in order to catch the train to the ferry to get to Dublin. I ended up going to a funky vegetarian restaurant with an open mic night, getting wine drunk with two very funny girls, and waking up slightly hungover after a cozy 6 hours' sleep and busting ass to get to the train station. I missed my 9am train by 3 minutes! But it was alright, I caught the next one, and had a few hours to drink some very black tea and help myself out of my wine-induced fog.

The journey to the ferry consisted of two train rides, each two hours long, ending up at the northern tip of Wales. I met a very cool American girl named Manon from Asheville, NC while waiting for the ferry, and we were instant pals. The ferry was hilarious, had kind of a nautical Vegas feel, with lots of gold-plated interior, a cafeteria style restaurant, and a very busy bar. We met another American, Liz, who was Dublin bound after a few months studying in Paris. Once the three of us got together we really lived up to our loud American stereotype next to a table of older, very quiet Irish gentleman.

We arrived in Dublin just as it got dark, and the two of them were staying at the same hostel, the Times, so I walked them there before heading to mine. It was only a few blocks away so we regrouped and met back up at the Times. We were located in the infamous Temple Bar area, the young drinker's center, so we, joined by Manon's Canadian friend Gracie, charged out into the night with our "girls night out" swagger. It was this night that I had my first pint of Guinness in Ireland, and let me tell you, it definitely lives up to the stereotype. It is much, much better here.

The following day I ended up very luckily landing a spot at the Times hostel for the following two nights, which was great, since I really didn't enjoy my hostel the first night. For St. Patrick's Day and the night before it was a whopping 58 euro. I nearly cried.

For the next two days, I hung out with a great guy named Nick from California, who is in the midst of an around-the-world trip. We shared our hostel room with six very expressive Italians and three college kids from Kansas so we really had to show solidarity. The Italians enjoyed spending their afternoons and evenings lounging around the hostel room in tiny, fitted briefs that showcased far more than I was ready to see while shouting at each other emphatically in Italian, so needless to say we spent a lot of time outside the hostel.

We toured the Guinness factory, which was way more awesome than I expected. But I think the key move is to go up to the bar and drink a Guinness first, then take the tour. Everything is just a little cooler that way. You learn how the beer is made, how to pour your own pint, and you get a free beer at the very top of the storehouse, which is a circular, all-windows room with a 360 degree view of Dublin. There was even a DJ. And even though we stayed well after closing, they never once kicked us out- in fact, they continued to give us free beer. I kept remarking at how the place was, in every way, Vegas for Guinness enthusiasts. I met four people from San Francisco, two of whom had lived on Turk Street! The night continued with Jameson and street dancing and live bagpipes- they refer to the night before as St.Patrick's Eve and had a pub-wide countdown to midnight. Cleary it's taken very seriously.

The next morning, St. Patrick's Day proper, was, for me, filled with great pain. Starting the evening before at 5pm with Guinness and not slowing down made my hangover a 100% guarantee, so I was kind of unable to take in the revelry on the real day. However I had kind of had my fill at that point- hundreds of drunk americans in ridiculous green hats only takes a few minutes to appreciate. I thanked myself for drinking water that night instead of beer as my train to Tralee was the next morning. However, little did I know I'd be getting a minimal amount of sleep....

After a pub, I returned to the hostel around 2:30, finished folding all of my laundry, and finally got in bed around 3am. After packing everything up, I laid out some freshly washed and dried clothes on the windowsill to put on in the morning. I awoke about 10 minutes into my slumber to the curious sound of pee, not going into a toilet. I looked up to find a young man urinating all over the windowsill, all over my neatly folded outfit for the next day. I think I shouted "Dude- stop...don't do that!" before jumping out of bed and shooing him away to the best of my ability. Poor kid was totally asleep, and had sleepwalked his way into taking a piss all over my stuff. He sauntered, still completely asleep, into the bathroom, finished his pee, and went back to bed, as I stood in mute shock at my pee-saturated articles. I think I said 'what the fuck' about 20 times and broke out into hysterical laughter. Nick woke up and started laughing, soon everyone in the room was cracking up. it was completely absurd. I clearly needed to wash my items yet again, and ran downstairs, still in disbelief, to the front desk to get some soap. I explained what had happened to the guy at the desk, and he responded in total seriousness, bolting upstairs and demanding to know whodunit. I meekly gestured to the culprit, Chase, slowly realizing he might be in trouble, and escorted myself back to the laundry room. The night manager, Martin, came in with Chase, the poor kid, looking drunk and confused, and asked me to verify that it was him who had whizzed on my wardrobe. He then ordered the kid to pack his bags and leave the hostel premises immediately. I was shocked again! I didn't mean to kick the little guy out on the street, he didn't mean to pee all over my stuff!

After my clothes were swiftly churning through the washer once more, I returned to the room to find the poor guy pathetically stuffing his crap into a bag, his two female friends half laughing and half feeling for him. I apologized for him having to go and he began profusely apologizing for going wee on my items. It was a hilarious exchange. "i'm sorry--no, no, I'M sorry..." and when he exited, the entire room erupted in laughter. Poor Chase, out into the drunken night he went. The pee remained on the windowsill well into the next morning. And that was the end of it.