Predeparture and Kilkenny City
Day 0: Predeparture
Since Kegan and I decided at the last minute that he'd be coming with me, we tried to keep things as chill as possible for our going away party so that we could spend time with Kuma. Unfortunately, that plan made the party a little bit TOO chill. Klint (technoccult), Ben, and Kevin showed up, I think, and that's about it. I ended up finishing my packing whilst completely shitfaced and staying up all night. Kelly showed up late to take me to the airport, which turned out to be good because during the 40 or so minutes I was waiting for her, I realized I'd forgotten very important things, such as my road atlas and my phone charger. Of course, I drunkenly ended up grabbing Kegan's phone charger, anyway.
Day 1: Dublin and Kilkenny City
The flight was fine except for the part where I didn't manage to sleep almost at all. Had forgotten to bring any Benadryl or other sleepy-making drug so arrived in Dublin completely mentally unequipped to cope. Fortunately the airport tourist info office was helpful as always, and I was even able to help a family of Americans navigate their way to their hotel, as well.
From the Dublin airport I headed directly to the downtown bus station and caught a bus into Kilkenny (Cill Chainnigh). There are many wonderful things to see and do in Dublin, but in the end it's just a city. Since Leah wouldn't be arriving until Tuesday and Kegan not until Wednesday, I opted to leave town since I don't particularly fancy spending two days all alone in a city full of men that want to make kissy noises and grab at my sides on the streets.
Upon arriving in Kilkenny I managed to get hopelessly lost trying to find my hostel, despite the fact that I'd been there before. The Kilkenny Arts Festival was going on at this time, so nearly every storefront was also a gallery, and the people inside were expecting to direct lost folks. A kindly old lady with an unusually large bun on top of her head directed me towards my hostel and invited me to come back to look at her watercolor paintings.
At the hostel I unpacked fearfully, expecting to find bizarre things in my bag or important things completely missing. Other than the wrong phone charger, my fears were for naught. Apparently I am the PackMaster, able to put together a backpack while both half asleep and drunk.
Buí Bolg in action.
I spent the afternoon conversing in broken English/French with the many Italian tourists at the hostel, and ended up getting lunch with a large group of them and inadvertently acting as translator for the Irish sandwich shop girl that just could not understand their heavily accented English. Watched the Buí Bolg on the streets for a bit, and then tried to go catch the Kíla Children's Show, which was something like a 20 minute walk outside the city center. I got directions from the hostel warden and then set off, but unfortunately took the wrong fork of a Y-intersection for at least a kilometer. I turned back and headed down the correct fork, but then realized that
So I said fuck it and went back to the city center for a pint. At least I had an amazing view on the way back.
The view on the way back into Kilkenny City.
Going to the Anna Conda turned out to be an excellent decision, as I met some lovely men that, after they got drunk enough to forget I was there/treat me like one of the guys, were some excellent fun. They were impressed that I was reading Roddy Doyle. Their conversation would turn in an instant from taking the piss to intimate confessions, and then go back to lighthearted banter again. Possibly because they remembered I was there.
Frank, Terence, and Dan at the Anna Conda.
At one point, I think when we'd moved over to the Pump House to avoid the crowds at the Anna Conda, two of the three of them put their hand on my shoulder to stop me talking so that I could listen to the jukebox. It was Thin Lizzy's The Boys Are Back In Town, and all three of them proceeded to rock out to it. I was confused until I consulted my guidebook later and realized that Thin Lizzy are Irish, so are basically the Commitments in real life.
The Pump House
The Pump House
I have no idea what Yer Man on the right said to me all night. I think someone said he was from Cork, but I think mostly his accent was Drunk.
Late in the night Frank took me to his neighborhood Old Man Pub. Of course it was covered in wood paneling and actually did contain a few women. I met a 90-something Kerry man that had been drinking at that pub for so long that whatever change he had in his pockets (looked to be about 1euro25) was enough to buy three pints. Everyone in the pub was of course sure that Frank and I were to be married, since why else would he bring a young lady there, and that was fine. We let them think so. The ladies there were also impressed with my choice of reading (The Barrytown Trilogy) and pronounced me fit for his company.
After a long discussion in which I made it perfectly clear to Frank (who had been a gentleman all night, at least by my standards of lonely irish bachelors) that there would be NOTHING going on between us, I went to Frank's apartment to eat chips and pizza and watch a documentary on a local artist whose name I unfortunately forgot to write down.
The night went exactly as we'd agreed- I ate the food, watched the documentary, and walked back to the hostel unmolested. Unfortunately, I walked back there minus the Barrytown Trilogy. Sigh.
Since Kegan and I decided at the last minute that he'd be coming with me, we tried to keep things as chill as possible for our going away party so that we could spend time with Kuma. Unfortunately, that plan made the party a little bit TOO chill. Klint (technoccult), Ben, and Kevin showed up, I think, and that's about it. I ended up finishing my packing whilst completely shitfaced and staying up all night. Kelly showed up late to take me to the airport, which turned out to be good because during the 40 or so minutes I was waiting for her, I realized I'd forgotten very important things, such as my road atlas and my phone charger. Of course, I drunkenly ended up grabbing Kegan's phone charger, anyway.
Day 1: Dublin and Kilkenny City
The flight was fine except for the part where I didn't manage to sleep almost at all. Had forgotten to bring any Benadryl or other sleepy-making drug so arrived in Dublin completely mentally unequipped to cope. Fortunately the airport tourist info office was helpful as always, and I was even able to help a family of Americans navigate their way to their hotel, as well.
From the Dublin airport I headed directly to the downtown bus station and caught a bus into Kilkenny (Cill Chainnigh). There are many wonderful things to see and do in Dublin, but in the end it's just a city. Since Leah wouldn't be arriving until Tuesday and Kegan not until Wednesday, I opted to leave town since I don't particularly fancy spending two days all alone in a city full of men that want to make kissy noises and grab at my sides on the streets.
Upon arriving in Kilkenny I managed to get hopelessly lost trying to find my hostel, despite the fact that I'd been there before. The Kilkenny Arts Festival was going on at this time, so nearly every storefront was also a gallery, and the people inside were expecting to direct lost folks. A kindly old lady with an unusually large bun on top of her head directed me towards my hostel and invited me to come back to look at her watercolor paintings.
At the hostel I unpacked fearfully, expecting to find bizarre things in my bag or important things completely missing. Other than the wrong phone charger, my fears were for naught. Apparently I am the PackMaster, able to put together a backpack while both half asleep and drunk.
Buí Bolg in action.
I spent the afternoon conversing in broken English/French with the many Italian tourists at the hostel, and ended up getting lunch with a large group of them and inadvertently acting as translator for the Irish sandwich shop girl that just could not understand their heavily accented English. Watched the Buí Bolg on the streets for a bit, and then tried to go catch the Kíla Children's Show, which was something like a 20 minute walk outside the city center. I got directions from the hostel warden and then set off, but unfortunately took the wrong fork of a Y-intersection for at least a kilometer. I turned back and headed down the correct fork, but then realized that
- I had a good 20 minutes more of walking to go after the better part of an hour I'd already spent,
- I was very, very tired and achey, having not slept since two nights before, and
- even after I'd arrived at the show an hour late, I'd have to pay 12 euros admission.
So I said fuck it and went back to the city center for a pint. At least I had an amazing view on the way back.
The view on the way back into Kilkenny City.
Going to the Anna Conda turned out to be an excellent decision, as I met some lovely men that, after they got drunk enough to forget I was there/treat me like one of the guys, were some excellent fun. They were impressed that I was reading Roddy Doyle. Their conversation would turn in an instant from taking the piss to intimate confessions, and then go back to lighthearted banter again. Possibly because they remembered I was there.
Frank, Terence, and Dan at the Anna Conda.
At one point, I think when we'd moved over to the Pump House to avoid the crowds at the Anna Conda, two of the three of them put their hand on my shoulder to stop me talking so that I could listen to the jukebox. It was Thin Lizzy's The Boys Are Back In Town, and all three of them proceeded to rock out to it. I was confused until I consulted my guidebook later and realized that Thin Lizzy are Irish, so are basically the Commitments in real life.
The Pump House
The Pump House
I have no idea what Yer Man on the right said to me all night. I think someone said he was from Cork, but I think mostly his accent was Drunk.
Late in the night Frank took me to his neighborhood Old Man Pub. Of course it was covered in wood paneling and actually did contain a few women. I met a 90-something Kerry man that had been drinking at that pub for so long that whatever change he had in his pockets (looked to be about 1euro25) was enough to buy three pints. Everyone in the pub was of course sure that Frank and I were to be married, since why else would he bring a young lady there, and that was fine. We let them think so. The ladies there were also impressed with my choice of reading (The Barrytown Trilogy) and pronounced me fit for his company.
After a long discussion in which I made it perfectly clear to Frank (who had been a gentleman all night, at least by my standards of lonely irish bachelors) that there would be NOTHING going on between us, I went to Frank's apartment to eat chips and pizza and watch a documentary on a local artist whose name I unfortunately forgot to write down.
The night went exactly as we'd agreed- I ate the food, watched the documentary, and walked back to the hostel unmolested. Unfortunately, I walked back there minus the Barrytown Trilogy. Sigh.