At about half four, which turned into half five by the time our director showed up, two buses loaded with thirtysome Saint Mary's girls drove from Maynooth off to the West Coast. We were all settled in for the journey praying that we were going to be fed along the way. Thankfully we stopped for a beautiful meal on the border of County Roscommon and Galway and were fueled for the rest of the long five hour total journey. For the night we were staying in Doolin, Co. Clare. Doolin is an extremely small town on the coast, but size is no matter in Ireland as three pubs are within the village limits (quite typical the number of pubs outnumbers churches and challenges the population number). When we arrived at our hostel in Doolin, we literally seized the place just as though we were Napoleon's troops. With thirty girls comes thirtysome odd bags of food and endless amounts of luggage. As we were thrown into rooms with no apparent order, we settled in and headed to the pub for some of Ireland's most highly regarded live music. The small, quiet village reminded me of the setting in Waking Ned Devine and the jeers and plucking of the fiddle inside the doors of Gus O'Connors reminded me of everything I loved about Ireland, the friendly and welcoming atmosphere providing great craic. As much as we were enjoying ourselves, we had to end the night early in order to wake up for our early morning tours.
A few hours of sleep were too soon interrupted by a knock at the door to wake up and of course the knock was just as quickly ignored, resulting in six girls scrambling to get ready, packed, and "breakfasted" to get on the bus. Our first stop was a tomb in the burren. To put the burren simply, it is a giant collection of large rocks spanning over a good area of Co. Clare, also where my friend and I fell simply trying to take a picture and getting caught within one of the crevices. Needless to say, the near broken ankle and unnecessary early wake up call for a few stones piled on top of the other did not provide me with a positive view of the burren. From there, we journeyed to the top tourist destination in Ireland and a finalist in the new Seven Wonders of the World: the Cliffs of Moher. While we were there, there was a bit of fog, but the cliffs were still majestic. You look out and the down, and are overtaken with just how grand they are...photos certainly do not do them justice. Jumping over the stone fence and walking down to the edge, I attempted to crawl to the edge and peer over. However, my lifelong fear of heights and lightheadedness stopped me a mere foot from the edge by which time I was having a spasm attack and probably an ulcer or two. Watching all of my friends crawl to the edge and sit there influenced me to want to join them, but then again I pictured myself being launched over the edge just as Lizzie in Waking Ned Devine was and I found my safe distance to be satisfactory. Eventually it was time to go and we had to race to the pier in Doolin to catch our ferry to the Aran Islands. If you've ever been to Ireland and have ridden in a car, particularly a bus, through the rough, uneven, windy roads, you may know that nauseous sensation that envelopes you when you are barreling along to your destination. However, combining that feeling with an hour and a half boat ride through choppy water can be a lethal combination. Let's just say by the time I planted my feet on Inismore, I had never been so happy just to use my own mode of transportation, my feet. As soon as we arrived on the largest island of the Arans, news spread quickly of all the American girls who had arrived. As soon as we were situated in our hostel, had had some lunch, and walked outside there were several Aran tour buses and vans sitting outside waiting and wishing to take us around. We were the few tourists that weekend and were a hot commodity. Everyone wanted our service and so we heard several "Pick me! I give the best tour!," etc. However, we piled into whatever van we could fit into and then we were all off on a tour of the island and were taken to a small village (a village on the island can be made up of one person if necessary), at the base of Dun Aengus, the ring fort. By the time we got out of the van it was starting to rain and as we took the walk up the hill to the fort, it began to pour and we stuck on top of a cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in a downpour. So far, the trip was looking great! After a very quick tour, we raced back down the hill and did a quick bit of shopping and then hopped in the vans again and finished the tour. There were several unfinished projects throughout the island and as our tour guide said the motto, "have a drink. think about it. have a drink. forget about it," is taken to heart there. Eventually we made it back to the hostel and freezing, we took showers and then made fajitas for dinner. That night all of the girls I was sharing my room with were finishing our history essay I had already submitted so we stayed in and hoped they would finish soon.
The next day had been a complete 180 of the previous day. The sun was shining and the water looked beautiful, we also had to the entire day to do whatever we wanted. So my roommates and I decided to rent bikes and go around the island. We opted for the coastal route and did not regret it for a second. As soon as we veered onto the coastal road, we knew exactly what Heaven on Earth looked like. The fields were green and outlined with the traditional stone fences and the cool blue of the ocean rising in the background. The weather and the scenery could not be beaten. As we glided along the road with no one else traveling on it, we sang and enjoyed every second of the moment we were experiencing. Eventually we came to a beach and we stopped for a few minutes to enjoy the sun and then we hopped back on our bikes and made our way to the village where we had been the day before. However along the way we met some travelers of a different kind. Only in Ireland would you have to stop on your bike to wait for a car herding a mother and baby cow, the traffic on the Aran Islands is much more agriculturally influenced than the likes of Los Angeles. Just as my two friends were able to sneak past the mother and calf, I made my move and my friends having startled the baby, proceeded to scare the baby into almost darting in front of me. Needless to say, I almost wound up slamming into the stone wall and facing the wrath of the baby and mother. However, I was able to make it out alive and we journeyed on to the village. In the small village, mainly comprised of shops, we had some lunch and then made our Aran Island purchases. Clearly we had not thought out the plan to journey back to our hostel as I walked out of the shop with two large bags full of Aran woolen goods. I tried different strategies with one bag on each handlebar and two on one side, but eventually both bags ended up ripping. It was quite the site to see...Eventually I was able to put some goods on the back of my bike and the ride with the other lot under my arm and the other hand on the bike handles. It was a difficult journey back with the windy roads and the hills, but we made it back in time and had all items in tact. A nap was necessary after the most exercise I had had since being in Ireland, as well as a good dinner.
Once we had relaxed and finished eating, the sun had set and my friends and I decided to go for a walk when we started talking with some people from different places in Europe who were working on the island and in Galway. They mentioned there were salsa lessons taking place at the island hotel and suggested it would be good craic. So on a whim we headed to the hotel pub and in fact on the dance floor, there was a giant group learning various salsa moves. Despite my best efforts I abandoned the dancefloor for a seat with a few of my friends and had a pint. Learning that the American girls were there, we were approached by several of the locals, intrigued as to what we had done of the island. We eneded up meeting various different people, one who was an extra in the film Leap Year and was a fisherman, another who had played Gaelic football in Chicago, and another who was the neighbor and brother-in-law of the former. The island people were certainly a different breed with the fast talk and their Italian-esque fluctuations in their dialect. They also had a different sense of humor as they tried to make jokes whenever they could and then proceeding to laugh at themselves...maybe they have spent too much time on the island. Nonetheless, it was a great night and we eventually made our way back through the sleepy town to our hostel.
The next day we were set to leave Inismore. Even though we had been advised by all of the locals that the ferry was at noon, our director decided to yield the advice and was convinced it came at one...we would soon wait until two for the next ferry. Through rough waters we made our way back to Doolin and were warmly greeted with the yells of a bus driver who was quite upset that we were a few hours late and had held him back from getting to Dublin in time. So we were left with no dinner on the way back. Eventually we made it to Maynooth again, and in record time!, but despite the wonderful weekend we had had, it was nice to be back in Maynooth. It was a shame that the trip had not been earlier in the semester as everyone became closer on the trip and got to know each other better, but no matter it was an experience which created memories for everyone to share together.
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