Ireland in 6 Days: The West Coast

December 19, 2012:
By the morning, that slightly dizzy feeling had turned into an extremely sore throat and an inability to keep my eyes open on the bus. I tried my best to listen to Gabe's stories, but thankfully, he let us get away with sleeping between stops most of the day.

Our first stop was the grave of William Butler Yeats. This was pretty cool considering I studied "The Second Coming" in my first year of University. He's one of the most influential poets in the 20th century and was the first ever Irish-nationalist Nobel Peace Prize for Literature (he won just after Irish Independence from England).

 Upon arrival in Galway, I passed out on my bed wearing my winter coat and all my clothes. I went to the bathroom when I woke up and realized that my neck looked funny at which point I realized that I probably had more than a sore throat. I had the pedetriac nurse confirm that my glands were swollen. I opted to skip the Pub Crawl that night, even though I'd be missing the opportunity for a Christmas-themed dinner. Liz was even wearing a reindeer onesie. I made it through dinner at An Pucan and said goodbye to Nathan and Kate who were leaving the tour a few days early and then went straight to bed.

December 20, 2012:
I was no better by morning and I didn't have an opportunity to find a pharmacy to buy ecchinacea before we left. Our bus also had some new additions... and surprise! That meant more Australians and a South African. Our first stop was what Gabe called the "Mini Cliffs". The Cliffs of Moher are often foggy so he took us to a set of smaller cliffs that weren't first, just to make sure we got to see some cliffs at all. There was water crashing up along the rocks and it was really striking, but in my state of semi-delirium, I was more interested in a cow near the tour bus. I couldn't stay out for longer than 10 minutes and waited for everyone else to rejoin the bus by trying to fall asleep in my seat.

Sure enough, when we got to the Cliffs of Moher, you could barely see a metre in front of you. We went into the visitor centre where I nearly fell asleep during the "virtual cliffs experience" which was a video aimed at giving you motion sickness. Talaira and I walked out to the end but couldn't seea thing. A few minutes after we left, Liz and Tim said the fog cleared and they managed to get some great photos.

After a buffet lunch in a cute little restaurant with real fireplaces and cushions on the seat, we stopped at Blarney Castle, famous for the Blarney Stone. There are a number of myths associated with the origin of this stone, involving the goddess Clíodhna, witches, Robert the Bruce, etc etc. The stone is said to endow anyone that kisses it with the gift of the gab. "Blarney is something more than mere flattery. It is flattery sweetened by humour and flavoured by wit. Those who mix with Irish folk have many examples of it in their everyday experience" according to John O'Connor Power. Winston Churchill is an example of someone who has kissed the stone. And now I have, too!

The castle itself is stunning and we got to walk through some of the rooms. Afterward, we explored the Poison Garden next to it which is one of the coolest gardens I've ever been through. Each of the plants is poisonous and had an explanation of how it relates to myth. There were so many plants from the Harry Potter series that I hadn't realized were real plants.

We arrived in Killarney fairly late and my first opportunity to get some sort of medication for my throat turned up some vitamin C and some pain killers, but no echinacea. Liz, Tim, Mel, Talaira and I bought ingredients for pasta at Tesco, but I was in too much pain to really eat any. At dinner, a man who was a bit dodgy.com claimed to be a Scottish killer on the run. On that note, I went to bed early again.

December 21, 2012:
Gabe let us sleep in an extra hour in the morning and we set off on horse-drawn carriages around Killarney National Park.

The views were fantastic and they taught us a bit about the type of plants and things that grow there. Apparently there is moss there that can only grow in areas of the world where the air is pure. You could almost smell the purity.

We set off to Dingle and made several stops along the way: Inch Beach - according to Gabe this is one of the most beautiful beaches (apart from the weather) that he's ever seen but he might be biased -,  the Sleeping Giant island,

and a Celtic Church (totally abandonned with no sign of exploitation for tourism purposes). The church had acient Celtic writing and a window called the Needle Eye. According to legend, if you're able to pass through this slim hole in the wall, you will be able to pass on to Heaven. I couldn't be bothered. I was still too sick to really have any energy. We also got a glimpse of a famine house from the bus windows.

That afternoon, we had free time in Dingle so I finally managed to find some echinacea! We ate soup for lunch and I started a regimen of echinacea and vitamin C every two hours in addition to the masses of water I'd be drinking every day since it started.

Before dinner, I had a run-in with the shower. It was an electrically powered shower where you have to press power and set the temperature, etc. It seems fairly high-tech, but I was in the shower before I tried the power button and it didn't work. I tried several more times before I got exhasperated, put on a towel and asked the girls in my room if they knew why it wasn't working. Finally, I realized that there was a master power switch OUTSIDE the bathroom. Because that makes perfect sense!

Feeling fresh, we ate a sup-par dinner at the hostel restaurant (which also doubled as the bar) and went out to see if any of the other bars in town were worth visiting. I was feeling much better. All of the bars in town seemed to have two or three people that all new the bar tender. I wouldn't be surprised if the village we were staying in only had the four bars we went to visit. After we left one of them, all four or five of the young people who'd been at one of those bars came to the hostel bar. They must take advantage of the opportunity to "meet" tourists whenever they see the Paddywagon Tour bus pull up. That night we had karaoke at the bar and I was prescribed Irish Carbombs by the future doctors on our trip because alcohol is an antisceptic and kills bacteria... I can just picture my mum rolling her eyes.

Talaira and I rocked a medley of Grease songs and Liz took on Gagnam Style, which must be the most difficult song to sing karaoke to unless you are Korean. The only smart thing I did was leave long before the end of the night to try to get some rest.