Sept 12th

Woke up today and ate a bowl of Cherrios while looking at the grey sky and wondering if the sun ever shines here. We walked down to the highway and waited for the bus to drive us to the Aran Islands, which never came. Turns out it was full, so we got bypassed. Chuck, our Prof, called the company and had another come our way. The bus roared down the road and picked us up. A bunch of guys noticed that the driver was the guy at the pub the night before playing Texas Hold ‘Em and tipping a few back. He told us in a giddy Irish voice that it’d been a late night and he got up when Chuck called for another bus. It was his day off, but they needed more drivers. The funny thing was he didn’t have to tell us it was a long night; the way he whipped around those turns I knew it was going to be a long morning.

We hopped on a ferry and 30 mins later docked at the most quaint village on Earth. When I was younger, Caroline, Kelli, Sara, Mark and I used to think that when the sun shone through the clouds the gates to Heaven were opening up. Turns out we were right. Today on the Aran Islands the sun shined all day! We all decided to take the bike tour of the place.



After biking 3 miles the wrong way to a dead end (the path went in a loop on the map) we realized that maybe the first fork in the road was where we went wrong. We went on our merry way and saw the most striking farm houses with stone walls bordering them and cows, goats, sheep, and horses grazing the rocky grasslands. Every so often, a statue of Mary, Crucifix of Jesus, or Celtic cross would dot the landscape. Graveyards were littered with raised stone carved into Celtic crosses.

Cows.

A picturesque graveyard just outside of town.

Everywhere you look is postcard quality landscape waiting to be shot with your camera.

Right here I am pondering how long it is gonna be until they take the picture, because Kelli told me about how people actually get blown off the cliffs to their death!

With all this gorgeous scenery, something had to go sour. The pedal on my bike jammed. I went from the leader of the pack steering with one hand and snapping pictures with the other to the slow poke. The bike service truck drove up, stopped and asked if something was wrong. I wanted to look at him and say, “No, I just like biking like a crazy tripping over my own pedal.” His truck bed had an extra bike in it. I told him my pedal was locked in place and made it very cumbersome to pedal. He looked at it, gave a loud Irish chuckle, and told me the bike shop is down the path 3 miles. I laughed a good old angry German laugh and got back to my hard work and biked the whole Island with a busted bike!

A small group of us returned our bikes after (an estimated) 15 mile bike ride. I asked the guy at the shop where we could grab a bite. He told us to go to the pub across the street. I muttered to him, “Well, I want something cheap and authentic, where locals eat.” He directed us to the “American Bar”. The group laughed. He laughed and looked at us and said, “No really, the locals all hang out at the American Bar, because for some reason all you American Lads are scared of yourselves.” We all laughed a little louder. He went on, “You lads see the word American and get all ashamed. So it’s a grand way to keep all the tourists away.” We all walked into the bar to hear Gaelic words filling the air coupled with the aroma of fried potatoes and burgers. I ordered the “American Bar Burger.” The burger was a quarter pounder patty with cheese, lettuce and bacon topped with their signature sauce and a fried egg. So, I went to Ireland and ate at the American Bar to hang out with the locals and have my first burger with a fried egg on it. After this we boarded the ferry and got home for some fine cottage dining.

The American Bar where the Irish hang out...

Tonight at supper we said grace as a cottage and dug into our tacos, fried potatoes, and buttered bread. James, the fellow with the foot in our dishes, followed the prayer with a complaint. He said he did the dishes we used from breakfast. I looked at my other roommate and started to smirk. Then James said he tried out the sink plug from our bathroom for the kitchen to do our dishes. Unfortunately, the sink plug was too small, so he used the slimy tub drain plug for our dishes! I somehow stomached my first bite of taco, and then burst out into tears of laughter.



This is our slimy tub or as I have come to know as our kitchen table.


James, not surprisingly, was not selected to do the dishes tonight.

My night has ended great. I took a water heated shower. It was the second coldest shower in my life. I feel clean for the first time in Ireland!



Tomorrow I need to get up at 8 o’clock for another adventure, so I better get to bed, gnight.