Actually, I believe I shall start from the end and then jump back in time. I have to start at the end because what is going on right now is weighing fairly heavily on my mind, namely that I believe that I am minutes nay seconds away from a fiery death. Way back when, when we were asked if we would like to journey from Shannon to Dublin
LA: So, is this like, going to be a train with wheels, or.....
Princess (interrupting) : Hold on a moment. I just need to know if this is going to be the stupidest question you've ever asked?
Me: <snort>
I'm pretty sure I'm going to have a nervous breakdown by the end of the summer as I have to do this little trip every week and a half. I'd rather deal with TSA than have to sit in this garishly upholstered death trap and slowly careen to my death. But there it is. What is a girl to do but suck it up and repeatedly say her prayers to every deity she can think of? I believe I shall erect a small shrine in the seat next to me each week with a rosary, star of David, statue of Ganesha, chicken foot, vial of blood and a small patchouli candle all arranged in whatever feng shui design will keep me alive the longest on this metallic tube of doom.
But enough about where I'm currently going (which is to my imminent demise), let's focus for a bit on where I've been. Which is not nearly as horrifying, I must say.
So about two weeks ago I hopped on my lovely little plane from sunny Florida to the center of modern civilization: Newark New Jersey
And speaking of things that continued through the first week—we (my fellow guides and I who, as you may have guessed, shall be referred to as Louisiana-guess where she's from?, The Leprechaun-due to his stature and willingness to call himself one and Princess-because he is) all swiftly realized that nearly every story that we read about was the "bloodiest day in Irish history" and that this was not just about one day—they were ALL the bloodiest day in Irish history. This day saw hundreds dead, that day saw thousands. The Black Plague? Off with tens of thousands to a nasty end. No potatoes? There goes a third of the population. Celts, Vikings, Normans, the British are coming, the British are coming! Wave after wave of invaders banging down Ireland Wyoming
Jesus Christ that compartment is going to detach!!
Ahem. Sorry, just a small panic attack there. I beg your pardon.
Getting back to my narration, first off we decided to start our Irish adventure off right and nip on down to a pub for a pint of Guinness. Did you know that Guinness has fewer calories than a lite beer? It's true. It also fills you up like eating a loaf of bread—it's practically a meal in and of itself. And it does seem to be perfectly acceptable to drink your dinner here. And your lunch. And afternoon tea. And a snack. And on and on and on. I'm actually surprised that I remember anything from the last month since I've had more alcohol in the last four weeks than I have in the last four years.
I wasn't overly fond of Guinness at first but now that I've had it nearly every day I've grown to quite like it. And there are all sorts of variations you can try. There's some combination with Bailey's that is not an Irish Car Bomb (which, interestingly enough, no one seems to have heard of here as far as a drink is concerned. I would not recommend walking into any establishment in Ireland and asking for one as they will assume you mean the literal item and won't be very happy with you about it) as well as a Guinness and Champagne
Up until about a week ago I had been having the regular stuff but kept meaning to try this Guinness and Black concoction. Despite the fact that when we mentioned it at the Guinness Storehouse, the fetus that was giving us the tour --- seriously, he was maybe 12? Although my fellow guides say that since he drinks he has to be at least 18 but I don't think so. He looked like a spiky-haired Howdy Doody and was about the same height. I swear he wasn't a day over 10. Although he seemed to have roughly the same amount of body hair as Robin Williams. It was an interesting combination he had going on there. Anyways…. he had a massive coronary at the mere suggestion of it. He also said (after he recovered from his fit) that it was an abomination in the eyes of Arthur Guinness and God (pretty much in that order) and at least a half-dozen angels and saints and that he would never speak to us again if we tried it. Still, I wanted to have a go. More so I can recommend it and/or describe it to my guests should they ask. So this is all in the name of science and guest service, really. Product knowledge, if you will. I'm a giver, what can I say? So I ordered one the other day and figured that it would just taste like a fruitier version of the norm. Hey, I like black currant, I like Guinness, what could go wrong, right?
Oh.
My.
GAWD.
I actually took an emory board to my tongue to try to get rid of the god-awful taste. It was easily the worst thing I have EVER tasted in my entire life. EVER. EASILY. How could two tasty things combine to produce something so foul? It was like drinking something that had died several days prior and been left in the sun to marinate. I would rather lick a beggar's armpit in Arizona
::: shudder :::
AAAHHHHH!!!! Ohmigodohmigodohmigod another train just blew past us and I swear we nearly derailed. ::: breathing slowly and shakily through my nose and out through my mouth :::
Moving right along, have I mentioned yet how the animals here are all incredibly lazy? I mean, I suppose there's not much to their day besides wondering how close the end of the line is for them. But I had always heard that if you see cows and such lying down then it meant it was going to rain. Because, you know, they want to keep their undersides dry. Don't laugh—other people had heard of that, too! And as we all know, animals can predict the weather. Hurricanes and earthquakes and the like. It's on the internet so it must be true. So it stands to reason that they can tell if it might mist a bit today. But oh, no. These animals are just lazy. They are always lying down! Cows, horses, sheep, doesn't matter. You drive by and they're all splayed out in the field like they're reclining on a chaise and waiting for tea to be served. Although it's a fair point to say that it is always about to rain in Ireland so there's that, I suppose. Gotta stay green somehow.
This brings me to several points, actually. The first being that I heard before I got here that you could experience all four seasons in one day in Ireland
What in the hell was THAT??? The conductor keeps making announcements but I can't understand what he's saying!!! :: panicky breaths :: Imagine the most unintelligible fast food drive-thru monitor and then add in a thick Irish brogue. I can not make out a damn word! What if he's giving out crucial information? I don't even know if my seat cushion can be used as a flotation device!!!!! panicpanicpanicpanic
Oh, pardon me. I was just having a minor myocardial infarction. My second point is about tea and the vast quantities that I have consumed since getting here. And as anyone who knows me knows, I run on coffee like most appliances run on electricity. That is to say, a steady stream of it. But I have made the switch. I am very well hydrated due to the extreme amount of liquids constantly going into my body, those liquids mainly consisting of tea and Guinness. I have found, as I have long suspected, that there is nothing so delightful than curling up in a large squashy armchair in front of a roaring fire and having a lovely spot of tea and scones with clotted cream and black current jam. Did I mention that I'm in a castle while I'm doing this? And shall be for the next several months? Don't hate.
THERE! You see what I mean?!? I just passed a field full of cows and not a one of them was standing up! Lazy lazies, the lot of them! I mean, you'll even regularly see horses lying down on their sides! WTF? When I come back around I want to be a horse in Ireland
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I was getting 'round to my third point. So as we careened around the countryside on the roads that were the exact opposite of straight and wide, we kept passing these sheep with colored blotches on their backs. Some were red, some were blue, green, purple, all sorts of colors. We figured at first that this was some kind of ownership mark or whatever. Well, how wrong we were!
Turns out that all the little boy sheep have this paintball contraption thingy strapped to their boy parts. And after they have a little Irish rendezvous with one of the girl sheep she ends up with the colored paint on her wool to show that the two of them engaged in a deep, meaningful conversation one moonlit night. This way the farmers know who might have a delivery from the stork in a few months time. And each farmer just picks a color, doesn't really matter which one since their property is fenced off. We all really started to feel for the sheep with a whole rainbow on their backends as they have obviously been having quite a few discussions with quite a few gentlemen. I think this is an excellent way to see if your guy is running around as well.
Imagine if you're out for an evening with the girls and make a shocking discovery: "Maude! Isn't that Harold's color on your skirt? How DARE you??" I think this will simplify things a great deal and we should implement a system as soon as possible.
Ohmigod, we're slowing down. I wonder if there's a cow on the track? Sheep? Dear God my nerves can't take much more of this.
At the end of the trip we get to stay in this absolutely gorgeous castle (the one with the squashy fireside armchairs and yummy tea service) and I have to say, I think this is where I should stay ALL of the time. I simply don't see why I have to stay in a house when a castle is perfectly capable of holding me and all my worldly possessions in the manner to which I have become accustomed. Sadly this castle does not appear to be haunted and I'm really not sure what's up with that. I thought all castles came standard with a few ghosts but apparently not. It does have a cat, however. And as I am The Cat Whisperer, we have become fast friends.
I first saw my furry little buddy as he shot through the halls with half the tuxedoed castle staff in hot pursuit. I was reclining with a proper Irish Coffee in the outdoor lounge while Princess nursed a Jameson's and Camel Ultra when kitty decided to come say hello. He jumped right up into each of our laps to see what we were all about and then sniffed around our drinks. I wasn't too concerned because I figured the strong smell of whiskey would put him off. Unfortunately for me and my coffee, this was a true Irish cat and he plunged his face right into my glass. By the time I had gotten a second glass, he had cleaned all the cream off his face and was now trying to drink Princess' whiskey as well. We explained to him that this was not how good kitties should behave but he seemed unimpressed by our speech. He finally curled up on my lap, purring the entire time, and promptly fell asleep. We repeated this little routine for several days (except for the part where he sticks his face in my Irish coffee, though not for lack of trying) and each time I come back to the castle, he finds me and makes a home in my lap or arms. I also seem to be the only person who can peaceably extricate him from the castle whenever he sneaks inside since he will usually come when I call. I've named him Whiskey, since he seems to enjoy the stuff so much.
How in the hell is Louisiana
So let's talk about the food over here—hopefully that will take my mind off the possibility of derailing. There seem to be an awful lot of puddings over here for some random reason. Everything is a pudding yet none of it is even remotely similar so I'm at a bit of a loss about it. I always thought that pudding was something that was typically of the chocolate variety and came in a little clear plastic cup with a tear-away seal that said "Jell-O" on it. Not so here. There is Christmas pudding and sticky toffee pudding—both delightful and delicious and both I would call closer to cake than pudding but whatever. When something tastes that good I don't give a rat's ass what you call it as long as I can have some more, please. Then there's black pudding and white pudding. They both look like little mealy discs. They are ground up sausage and I think some other stuff plus a secret ingredient. In the black pudding, the secret ingredient just so happens to be cow's blood. In the white pudding, we've exsanguinated a sheep. Mmmm, who wants some? Actually, I must admit that they're both pretty good. I've taken to telling guests to try some and then to ask what it is.
In addition to puddings of every variety, Guinness is not just for drinking with your meals and/or between them. It is a part of your meal as well! It is used in just about everything. Beef and Guinness pie, Guinness sauces, Guinness marinades, Guinness sweetbreads and of course baked into that completely awesome brown artisan bread that you get with everything. A bowl of thick Irish soup or stew and a few paving stone-sized slabs of bread with pure sweet local butter and you're full to bursting. Yet despite all of the yummy food (I actually haven't had anything I haven't liked the whole time I've been here), I will still probably lose weight over the course of the summer. The chips (crisps as they are called) aren't greasy and even fried foods don't taste heavy and gross—they're not loaded down with enough preservatives to make a mummy happy, they're just fresh which is nice for a change. My body is probably going to go into convulsions the first time I break down and go to Taco Bell while home.
What was that sound???? What was that sound?!?!?!?! Stupid iPod and its stupid short battery. Maybe I shouldn't have had that espresso prior to boarding the train. I'm beginning to think that that was a serious error in judgment. Not that boarding the train AT ALL was a bright idea in the first place, but still I'm fairly certain that it shouldn't be making sounds like it's having a hard time digesting something.
Well, the train is nearly to Dublin
In parting allow me to answer an age-old question - we've been told that there are actually 692 shades of green here! I am making it my mission to see every one of them. And as much of this gorgeous, amazing country as possible.
As we head into the new year, may everyone carry this blessing with them:
May the road rise to meet you,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the rain fall soft upon your fields,
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.
Slainte'
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