An Evening in Galway

After bussing to the train station, training to the airport, flying to Ireland, bussing to the train station, and training to Galway, Kate and I dropped off our stuff at the hostel and roamed a bit around Galway’s Claddagh completely unencumbered by time. 

The Claddagh is an area in Galway where the Corrib River meets Galway bay. An old fishing village, it now is home to a huge population of mute swans.

Now, my initial reactions to my very short amount of time spent in Ireland revolve around the word perfect: slow, relaxed, friendly, sheep, amazing pewter sky that comes with a possibility of rain, this awesome yellow plant that I seriously considered smuggling back to Germany. I loved it. And our evening walking around Galway just added to my love. 

But we only roamed for so long until we decided that we should really find a pub to enjoy a Guinness and some fish and chips in. First attempt: Kitchen’s closed, but try the next pub up the way. 

We walk to the next pub: Kitchen’s closed. It’s after eight… But try this pub that’s up the hill, around, down the hill and there it be. 

We walk up the hill, down the hill and find Murty Rabbitts which had a sign proudly, and much to our relief, stating that their kitchen was open until 10pm. And so we walk in, up to the bar…

“Well, how about that. Hiya chickens!”

Oh, and I adore the bartender already. We locate a menu and a table, and quickly get orders in for a Guinness. “Sláinte!” Wow, they really aren’t kidding. Guinness is better in Ireland!

I was also informed that my most favorite bartender was the fisherman. And did my fish ever put up a fight about getting caught. Which is why I felt really quite bad that I couldn’t finish my fish or chips. Mmm. So good. But just so big. Like practically an American portion big.

Could I please move to Galway and become a local at Murty Rabbitts? I quite enjoy the nickname “chicken.” And just the overwhelming Irish attitude of you walk into my pub, you are now my friend which means, I shall commence making fun of you and your very tiny stomach. 

On the search for coffee

“Coffee” should not be stirred into your hot water. It is just NOT ok. Ever. Instant coffee is made for baking coffee flavored goodies. Not for waking you up in the morning. World, you are wrong. 

Which is why I had to find an actual coffee shop in Galway. Because instant coffee is not going in my body. I have standards. Standards that mean I import the bean to all the countries I live in that just don’t understand. You do not stir “coffee” into your hot water! That does not make a cup of coffee the size of my head that will make the fact that I just had to crawl out of bed better!

And so Kate and I strolled about Galway early in the morning because in addition to believing that one does not just stir “coffee” into your hot water, I also believe that one should get up early in cities one has never been to, or really any city. Seeing the city at the crack of dawn is different than seeing it in the late afternoon. 

I had never seen the sunrise before I traveled to Nkhotakota, Malawi, with my friend Rachel. It had always been a part of her growing up that her dad woke the family for at least one sunrise during any trip they took. And so I woke for a sunrise. And I’ve fallen in love with the concept ever since.

Rather than the annoyance of pushing through crowds of tourists, one sidesteps delivery men and street cleaners. Rather than beelines for pubs, one queues for the long sought after proper cup of coffee, one made directly from an actual bean and without the use of a spoon. 

This is not a hard concept, world. I don’t care what method you use to brew coffee: Turkish, Vietnamese, Italian, French — and those are just the presses and pots that I own. You do not stir “coffee” into your hot water!

Yet Another Missed Connection

I have a near 100% rate at missing any and every form of public transportation I run after. It’s typically not even my train that I’m running after. 

I ran after a train going the wrong direction and also a train only carrying logs in the Czech Republic.

I missed every single train connection when I visited Germany in October 2010. Ok, almost every one.

It’s what I do best and after each and every train pulls out of the station, I and/or the friends I’m with are left standing on the platform going, now what? We’re on our own, in a foreign country where we may or may not speak the language so well and now have to figure out a way to get where we need to be. 

And then there’s Ireland.

Our lovely tour guide was most definitely on Irish time and rather than getting us back at around 5pm, we got back at 6pm. And we have luggage waiting in the left luggage room at the station. 

As we’re pulling into Galway, the driver tells us that the train is just coming in; there’s only one track. If we run for it, we might be able to make it and if we don’t, meet him here and he’ll get us hooked up with a ride back into Dublin. 

And so, I hand my left luggage ticket to Kate. She’ll grab our bags, I’ll stand in the door of the train so it waits for her. 

The bus doors open, we storm out racing as fast as we can to the train station.

The back door right next to the left luggage is closed! We have to run all the way to the main entrance. 

We pound onto the platform. “Girls! Dublin?!” YES! “Get on now! First door!” WE HAVE LUGGAGE! 

Kate races down to the left luggage door. I race along the side of the train, ready to block the ability of the door close. Other guards keep telling me to get on the train — We have luggage! 

“He’s gonna let it go.” 

I turn my head and see Kate pounding on the left luggage door. 

The train doors close.

Crap. Another raced after train connection that I missed. 

The first man that told us to get on the train has made it down the platform by this time. 

“Girls, what happened!?” We were on a tour and it got back over an hour late… “AH, no worries. We’ll getcha all set up. Let’s see about getting you your luggage.” 

And he goes and talks to another man on the platform.

“Hiya girls, you’ve got some bags in here I take it?” Yes, two of them. “A’right. Let’s get them for you.” 

He goes over, unlocks the door, jumps over the counter, gets the bags and then does it all in reverse. “Let’s go talk to the bus manager and see if we can get you on a bus to Dublin.” 

He leads us over to the bus manager, explains that we just missed our train to Dublin. 

“Have you tickets girls?” Yes, right here. “Let me put my name on them, just in case there’s a problem.” 

He heads up to the bus, explains to the driver. “Half of, girls. Have a good trip.” 

Kate and I sit on the fence just outside the bus, regaining our breath. 

Wow. I have missed a lot of connections and never once has anyone HELPED me. Don’t make me leave Ireland, Kate. Please don’t make me!

We board the bus and start towards Dublin. At about two and half hours in, I turn to Kate. I just remembered. All the buses between Dublin and Galway were like five hour rides. It’s why we took the train in the first place….

But I was incorrect. About thirty minutes later we were pulling into Dublin, where we were dropped off at the station and started trudging towards our hostel. 

Hey, remember how that guy wanted something from the office in Galway, and the guard said it was all closed til Monday? If we had been any later, we wouldn’t have been able to get our bags until Monday. That was the last train of the day….