Well, Ireland. Somewhere we've both wanted to check out, we both have friends there, so a good option for a visit. Ok. So we turn up in Dublin and are greeted with Steph's friend Flora, fantastic! Together we begin to search for Alberto, the Mexican. Great. Found him off a plane from London. An unlikely combo I guess, in Irish terms - 2 French girls, a Mexican and a Kiwi. So what. At Flora's place I meet her husband Cesar, also from Mexico, a great guy. Together they welcome us into their central Dublin flat, where we proceed to eat f*cken fantastically delicious Mexican food. So there you are, not long in Dublin and I am eating such great Mexican food. Not exactly what I expected but I still could not find any reason to complain.
Ok. Day 2. Journey begins. Steph and I collect our 2006 black Fiat from the car rental place. Missing a bit of balls in the open-road-overtaking department but a comfortable car + cheap rental. Made our way west to Galway and on to Connemara, open, rocky, middle of nowhere place. As we are staying with friends mainly, we splashed out to stay in an old castle thing in beautiful surroundings. Really cool, except felt a little like an imposter and whats with the water? Never seen water from the tap THAT yellow before. Yellow. No Worries. Massive comfy bed + beautiful outside. Beautiful coast, such clear water it almost looked tropical. I had to try. Shoes off, trousers up. Splash, splash. Steph said I was mad. "Is it cold?" she asked. "Not to sure" I said "I can't feel my feet".
Day 3. Well. I knew it was a long way. But not THAT long. We had to get to the south to visit a friend. Not being entirely stupid, we envisaged a fair mission. After all, Ireland is such a small country. Like North Island of NZ. If it was NZ, or France for that matter, we would be there in a few hours even travelling on curly roads. Not in Ireland. The thing with Ireland is that it's Irish. For a start, they LOVE their tractors. It's a passion. A way of life. Tractors are NOT things to drive into the paddocks accross the hill or down the road. No! Tractors are for driving a long way, for driving through congested old streets to get to the pub, for driving back through town with a cigarette in your mouth to show everyone that you're coming back from the pub and you've got a big tractor. Maybe that's why all the roads are so f*cked. But there's more and more new roads. Economy's doing well you see. low unemployment, eastern block countries joining the E.U. ad flock for work opportunities. Wow! Great! What does this mean for the average traveller in a rented car? Roadworks. Someone figured out they could afford to fix all the shity roads. Sadly, it gets worse before it gets better. Roadworks, roadworks, roadworks... And it all looks so close on a map. Suffice to say when you are not looking at dirty men in fluro coats, the country looks very nice, bits of the south looks a lot like NZ. Spent a good night with an old friend Adam. Still crazy.
Day 4. Spent next day figuring out how the hell Cork traffic works. Soooooo congested. An island in the river you see. Old streets. Rain. Cars. People. Cars. Carparks. Full. And of course, roadworks. We check out Cork a little, not risking to drive far as meeting a friend in the evening (sort of it). Had a nice dinner with old friend Audrey, she's still really cool. who'd have thought. The off to a nice B&B to get us on our way back to Dublin.
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