We sit in the Dublin Airport. Where we will be sitting until 6pm (it is noon now). To know how we got here, I must explain a simple concept to you regarding Ireland's wifi situation.
Simply, it is advertised everywhere. But, after a few questions, you discover that pretty much in every place the wifi is "spotty". After a few frustrating attempts, I discover that "spotty" means practically nonexistent, and partial to black out moments.
Which explains why the ticket I booked for Spain did not go through, and we had to resort to a later flight, and why here, we sit.
Now, then, to our Ireland experience...
Since I already posted a little overview of Dublin, I won't go into detail about that city other than it gets creepy at dusk, people literally pee wherever, and are quite the litter bugs, graffiti covers everything (more often than not, it's Pac Man) and yet, there Is still a charm about it you can't quite place.
We journeyed to the farm from Dublin. And here's where things get interesting. First, a van pulls up, a man gets out, and, without introduction, tells us to put our things in the back. I noticed from the faded paint that this was the farm, so we did as told. From that moment, though, that sinking feeling came. You can't quite explain it, you just know it isn't right. Later, when we discovered his quick to anger personality while farming, it just confirmed that (seriously) something wasn't right, and that inescapable voice grew louder.
Not to mention the food, which was all freeze dried, the meals, which were eaten in bitter silence, the children, who followed us around the farm distracting us and biting so hard they left bruises as I tried to weed the fields... yes, biting children, no fresh food, and one seriously creepy father who's temper actually scared me (and believe me, that's hard to do, as I usually laugh in the face if danger). But why get angry if we don't know where the wheelbarrow is? Our profile clearly stated we were doing this TO LEARN. Which means, no, we don't know where your farm, specifically, keep their wheelbarrows.
Proof that truth is often stranger than fiction.
When our sickness (yes, we got sick early on) turned to fever (and for me a swollen face) I came to the conclusion that if I wasnt going to listen to my voice, fate was going to give me many more reasons to go.
So we marched on to Cork. Cork... The town of scowlers. I've never seen so many pirate-like people. But, what Cork lacked in style it made up for in location. We spent an entire day at Blarney Castle, kissed the stone, and hiked the surrounding area. The air was so fresh we felt our bodies healing, and spirits improving. Ireland was once again giving us hope in a time of uncertainty.
And now, we wait for our next adventure in foreign lands. The itinerary has changed, as you probably assumed, and so I will update a new one soon.
I hope your adventures aren't kicking your butt as much as ours are! But hey, what's an adventure without a little drama?
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