Monday, September 04, 2006

I hate Emo Screen Names and I went to Ireland

I'm trying to write this up in the time it takes to listen to Griegs Piano Concerto, 3rd movement (10 mins 42 seconds) So...

In the long period that has transgressed since my last update I’ve done/completed/started numerous exciting and time consuming things...

As per the last line of my previous entry... I screwed off to North Wales -

Man it really is the backend of nowheresville up their but the lack of mobile phone reception and coherent language made for a pretty relaxed trip. Due to my post operative (at that time about 7 days) state, I took a train up and down Snowdon, but hey I still clambered the last 20 metres or so just like every other pleb, only to be greeted by gale force winds, cloud and a vast greyness devoid of views of the pretty countryside. But it felt like an achievement of sorts, especially for a guy post op and who'd just come off painkillers for the first time in a month. It was warm below the clouds, a record warmth swept the big country, 36.3 degrees centigrade was recorded, surer proof of global warming will never be presented, I stopped lighting matches and throwing them in rivers.. I don't want to contribute to global warming above my body temperature's contribution.

Ireland

Yea, I went there too, Christian, a Danish friend of mine from Uni, came to Cardiff, we ate many a potato, crawled in a sort of sewer and decided on the back of those events to go forth into Ireland. Think of around the world in 80days, then divide it by 10 and then minus one, and divide the world into countries... then select one, that one being Ireland, and you'll get an idea of the scope of out great journey. I kissed the blarney stone, drank Guinness from its source (and it tastes slightly flat and burnt there too) and heard an Irish man say "top of the mornin' to you" - one of those was a lie.

The music ran out... hmm, now I’ve put an hour long symphony on, that ought to do it.

Ireland was a country of highs and lows, the highs being a 60 euro curry that Christian and I ate, and my genius inspired purchase of a tin whistle (which I am fast becoming adept at playing, soon I’ll be able to pretend to be an Irish bum, another disguise added to my ninja repertoire) the lows being the rain, and the greyness of it all.

The entire trip was "thoughtful" as I described it to Christian over a double baileys.

The return trip was less thoughtful and more irritating... this is how I told Christian of it in an email... these kinds of things don't need to be written twice:

"My trip home was eventful; it actually took 24 hours to get back to Cardiff...
first I found out that in Dublin... the train I wanted to get went from the bus station...so I missed it, then I got a bus from the train station that took a while heading south...then there was no tickets left for the ferry...I hung around and begged and they got me on with a staff ticket (but I still had to pay dammitt) and the "fast ferry" broke down and took longer than the slow ferry...

That meant I missed the train to Cardiff and the next one went at 01:50am...

so I took a taxi to fishguard with two other backpackers, a girl from Bristol and a guy from Vienna (at some point we had an old Irish guy that was drunk following us about)and we then took a bus to Haverford west, a town a bit further south...

Then we all hitch hiked to a motorway junction near Tenby... waited there a few hours in the dark... and luckily managed to get a ride back to haverford west with a guy that looked like Charlie Manson...We proceeded to sit in a pub drinking guiness and contemplating a night on the station floor when the bar maid, who was from Cardiff, took pity on us and rang the train company who agreed to let us on a transport train to Carmarthen at midnight, we then slept on Carmarthen station floor until about 3am, got another train to Swansea, slept there for a few hours on a bench then got a bus
to Bridgend, stayed there an hour or so and then finally a train to Cardiff
arriving at Cardiff Central station at 6am Sunday morning exactly 2 hours before the bus to my house so I walked to Sam's, threw stones at her window and
stayed over her house, and her dad commented the next day that "a He call at odd times doesn’t he".

24 Frikkin' Hours


Well that brings me all the way up to tonight, at 2am-ish. I was talking to Sam on messenger, but my battery ran out and so I got to insult her and then log off mysteriously. Heheh

My shoulder still hurts, it's numb in places, just like my heart (that would make a great emo screen name for messenger), I'm not a happy bunny about it, in fact I’ve openly declared that I need another holiday so in that spirit Samantha and myself are going to Croatia on Tuesday for a week, to take photos and be out of Wales, I worry that if, cumulatively, I am not out of Wales for at least 10% of year per year I will develop a stupid accent, if I am to beat that minimum percent I am still missing another 2.2 weeks after this trip to Croatia... dammitt. need another holiday at least.
"Life has no meaning a priori...It is up to you to give it a meaning, and value is nothing but the meaning that you choose." - J.P Sartre