She turned nine times around...

Recap: On the 1st of August, I picked Phil up at the airport in Belfast, and then we wandered around the city. Quite big town, really, it doesnt feel like a city. It was a fun day, we went to see the Botanical Gardens at Queen's University, sat outside city hall and hate food (and noticed that the spire of a tower overlapped perfectly with a ferris wheel, making it look like there was a hilarious combination ferris-wheel-tower thing. We also had the wonderful experience of me being distracted enough by Phil's presence to get... lost. I dont get lost. It was disturbing.

We then took a bus up to Portstewart, which is a wonderful little town on the northern coast of Ireland. We checked into a hostel, and then went wandering in the rain. The pissing, wet, cold rain. It was fantastic. We had a lot of tea, and some good pasta, and some other food... some Cadbury's hot chocolate too. It was fantastic.

The next day, we went over to the carrick-a-rede rope bridge. Its a metre wide, 30 metre high bridge over a chasm between an island and the Irish coast. And it was sunny, until we got there. I bought a... well, basically a really large plastic bag that doubled as a rain coat for £1,50. We crossed the bridge, which wasnt as frightening as I thought it was going to be, and wandered the island. And then it began to pour. And to say pour is like calling a gunshot a bit noisy. The rain came falling down, and the wind screamed, and all movement stopped. Everyone on the island just stood there, unmoving, while the rain came crashing down. It ended pretty quickly, and the sun started gleaming. It was Ireland. Wholly, truly Ireland. We looked out over the sea to Scotland, and miles of the coast were bathed in sunlight, and right next to the light it was obscured completely by rain and mist. It was fantastic.

Then we began the Antrim Coastal Walk, a 15km walk along the glorious coast. Cliffs and spires, crashing waves and gleaming beaches, small ports and smaller towns. It was one of the most beautiful coasts I've ever seen. We walked along a 3 mile beach, and saw... cows. Yes, cows, on the beach. Fantastic. We met backpackers and climbed rocky peninsulas. Well, I jumped. Phil climbed. We eventually got off the walk and went up to a bus stop... saw our bus go by, and waited for the next one. They run hourly. We hit an hour and forty five minutes in the rain, and eventually tried hitchhiking. We got a guy in a sketchy white van to pull over. The van only had windows in the front and had no back seats. He lead Phil to the back, where there was a mattress (though it was obviously for transport, not... well, anything else. There was a lot of crap piled on it, and everywhere else) which she sat on. I sat up front, and he drove us all the way to our hostel. It was on his way, he was heading west to a festival in Donegal. He was also a really nice guy who loved to talk.

The next day we went out again, and finished the walk. We ended with the Giant's Causeway, which is a natural wonder. Its... tens of thousands of hexagonal rocks jutting out of the sea, looking like the earth is offering God a choice from a massive carton of cigarettes (not my quote). It looks more impressive in pictures, but it's still an absolutely baffling sight. The cliffs and such on the way there were more impressive... they towered over the sea, hundreds of metres down, with rock formations that would impress even the most accomplished geologist.

After our gorgeous coastal walk, we took a bus all the way to Dublin (about 5 hours). It took forever to walk to our hostel from there, its much further from everything than it makes it self out to be. And it was a bank holiday weekend, which meant the city was packed. Then... pub to see Blanche! We listened to some Irish music, watched some drunk guys' hilarious attempts to pick up women (including Blanche), and sang. Then crashed.

The next day we went to (gasp) the National Gallery! Which was really good, there was a fair bit of interesting stuff, including a large (for Ireland) exhibition on Irish printmakers. We ate a quick lunch on St. Stephen's Green, a great park I may or may not have mentioned before, then went back to the gallery. Later in the day, we grabbed our bags from our hostel, then walked the long way to the bus station to catch a bus to Slane.

Slane Farm Hostel! If you're ever in Ireland and have a car, it has my highest recommendations. Its pretty, very well maintained, the shower worked fantastically well... it was great. However, it was in the middle of nowhere. We went on a late walk that night, which had some good sights by the road, including a donkey that tried to eat Phil's shoe and my crotch (we both reacted appropriately. I took pictures). The next morning, we walked around trying to get to Slane Hill (a place of historical importance). We went up a muddy lane (did I mention it was raining?), over a fence (where we got struck by nettles), through a wheat field (where we got completely soaked), and up another muddy lane. We didn't actually get to the hill, but we did manage to get entirely drenched. And muddy. The return to the hostel was wet and cold. We got back and made tea and tried our best to get warm. Especially Phil, her flight was relatively soon.

The owner of the hostel drove us to the bus stop. We got there 5 minutes early, and it ended up 30 minutes late. Which was highly stressful, considering it was Phil's only way of getting to the Airport even remotely on time. And it was cold and raining, and Phil's feet froze. But fun nonetheless. Well, before the frozen bit. She got her flight successfully, and I got to Dublin where I met up with Blanche.

The following day (yesterday) Blanche and I walked around parts of Dublin I havent been to before and visited an interesting, albeit small, gallery. We also walked around quite a bit, and bought bagel sandwiches for lunch. I spent €4 on it, which was a massive splurge, but worth it. We eventually got the bus to Glendalouch, where we spent a fun hour or so watching the Simpsons with posterchildren for ADHD (with an emphasis on the hyperactivity).

Today was The Return of [the?] Glendalouch. God I love that place... its just beautiful beyond belief. So far beyond belief. And this time it was misty and chilly and... well, it seemed like Ireland. Theres this really large rocky mountainside... big and tall. Last time we were there, Splinter and I were deciding how long it would take to climb to the top. Well, I now have the answer, having done it: about 45 minutes of constant climbing each way. It... well, it is quiet a climb. When I got to the top, I ate my peanut butter and nutella sandwich. Epic.

Now I'm in Dublin. Wow. So... Ireland is almost over. I get up at 445 tomorrow morning to get to the airport. I'm going to have something like 2 euro left when I get home. I planned that shit well. I wish Ireland an incredibly fond farewell... and know than I shall return at some point.