In Which I Am Trapped in Ireland

One minor conversational point that I forgot to mention... when I was talking to James, the med student who I talked to on the Literary Pub Crawl, he said after the Oscar Wilde recitation that since his school program had ended on Friday, he'd be taking a boat from Ireland to the continent for a month of travel before heading back to the States. The boat's name? The Oscar Wilde.

I mentioned that I was probably going to travel around Ireland for a while, and he recommended going to Galway, and then going to the Aran Islands and renting a bike and biking around for a day or two. I had originally planned to go to Cork but wasn't super excited about it - other than Blarney Castle, nothing much seemed appealing there, so I filed the information away and figured I'd decide Sunday (yesterday) where to go, probably while standing at the bus station.

Yesterday morning I woke up and went to eat breakfast, not realizing how early it was. (Stupid daylight savings time.) As I ate breakfast (the free breakfast provided by my hostel, buttered toast and cornflakes), I resolved that I would go to Galway instead of Cork. The prospect didn't actually excite me that much, though. Once I realized what time it actually was, I figured I had a couple more hours before the hostel would actually physically kick me out, so I decided to go mope in bed. While laying in my bunk, I tried to rouse myself to get to the bus station and move on by imagining how much fun I would have.

Unfortunately, my imagination kept coming up with something like this: I'd be biking along some country lane, complete with stone walls and sheep pastures. The air would be cool and foggy, with a misting rain. I'd slowly become wet and freezing cold, and eventually, in my misery, stop pedaling the bike. The bike would coast on a while longer, losing momentum, and eventually tip over, and I would fall with it. I'd lay pinned underneath the bike, in the rain, wondering what I had done with my life.

So maybe going to Galway and biking - not the best plan. I moped in bed a few minutes longer and then wandered into the bathroom to chat with Cathy, my roommate from South Carolina who I'd chatted with over breakfast and toothbrushing for the past couple days. She was, fittingly for our friendship, brushing her teeth.

"When does your bus leave?" she asked.
"Ugh, I don't know," I said, dramatically. "I don't even know where I'm going."
"Cork?" she asked, except her mouth was full of toothbrush/toothpaste so it sounded like "Cor?"
"Yeah, I don't think I want to go there, so I was going to go to Galway, but I don't think I want to go there, either. Basically, the prospect of tromping around Ireland for another week or so just sounds gloomy."
"So go somewhere else."

Ahh, Cathy - her wisdom is infinite. I could just go somewhere else, couldn't I?? I tried to think of someplace I was really excited about, and realized that I had planned a whole chunk of my trip of places I wasn't that thrilled about - specifically, Amsterdam and Brussels. I HAD been excited about Ireland and Scotland but the constant gloomy rain made the prospect of exploring the countryside sound miserable. However, I quickly knew which city I WAS looking forward to: Paris. Even if it rained the whole time, Paris would have enough museums and the like to keep my existence from being totally soggy.

"I could go to Paris!!" I told Cathy.
"Yeah - if you took the overnight ferry, you could be there by tomorrow night."

Suddenly re-energized, I scurried back downstairs to the internet to sort out this ferry business. I found one that night sailing from Rosslare to Cherbourg - Rosslare being an easy bus or train trip from Dublin. I had to get my act together though - the ferry would run Sunday night and then not again until later in the week. So, I quickly clicked through to book a seat on the ferry but it wasn't until the final "confirm all your details before purchasing" page that something caught my eye: underneath the line where it said "1 reserved seat", the website read "The Oscar Wilde".

Oh, NO! I couldn't take the same boat as the med student - I would come across as just too creepy! How would that conversation go? "Oh, yes, I was going to spend some more time in Ireland, but then you told me what boat you'd be on and, less than 24 hours later, I happen to show up on the EXACT SAME BOAT." Nightmare scenarios ran through my head: we get seats assigned next to each other and he spends 16 hours wondering if I'm going to stalk him through the rest of Europe. We get to Cherbourg and then get on the same train to Paris, thus enduring an additional 3 hours of him writing notes to his loved ones - "If I die under suspicious circumstances, it was the girl in the multi-colored scarf whose name I cannot recall. She is lurking somewhere on this train."

I contemplated a few other options, including disguises and paying extra money for a cabin rather than just a seat, but didn't want to spend the money on a cabin and figured the disguise would make me all the more suspicious if he did recognize me. Knowing the paranoia it would strike into my heart if a guy I'd had a casual conversation with for an hour suddenly appeared to follow me from one country to another, I closed out of the ticket-purchasing window without completing my purchase.

I figured there must be another ferry company operating, and there is, but their next ship doesn't sail until Tuesday (tomorrow) evening. So, I compromised with my plans. I decided to go to Cork and stay at the hostel I already had booked here, and then continue on to France in a day or two (either Tuesday or Wednesday).

So, I boarded a bus to Cork. It was about a 4-5 hour bus ride, and on the way, this struck me as funny:

It is the car wash at a gas station we stopped at. It made me laugh because I can't imagine that car wash doing anything except maybe adding some more dead, wet leaves to my car.

Anyway, I made it to Cork and to my hostel uneventfully. I thought about going to Blarney Castle today but it's raining (SURPRISE) so I am sitting in a lounge in the hostel, writing this and maybe reading my book later.

[Yes, I realize that the only picture I've posted so far of my entire trip has been a car wash. I'll call you, National Geographic.]