Arrival or is that lavirrA

Ok people, click in to those pedals, because here we go. I'm in IRELAND! And it's the real deal too; I'm typing away here in the massive common kitchen in the hostel (an old church building - so picture a massive room - high ceilings, cathedral windows, archways) and there's a couple of dudes jaming away in the corner on guitars.

I made it, and best of all, so did my back pack and bike. Phew! The flights were very smooth and basically on time. I met some excellent people along the way (and one dunce).


I got the first sign that I was headed in the right direction when I sat down at the gate in Toronto and overhead my first utterance with the endearing Irish accent. Selina and Eddy (yup, you read that right) were heading back home after having spent some time with family in Edmonton. Selina has been to the Tour de France goin' back noaw tirteen years I'd say. What a joy to talk to they both were, and true to the reputation that precedes the Irish, when I came back from a visit to the loo, Eddy had scribed his name, town, and mobile number in case I got stuck for a place. They may be stopping by the old blarney bike blog, so if they do, it was a joy to talk to you both. Best in the future.

Next was Simon, my seat mate. Simon was a trip. I saw in his eyes my first glimpse of genuine Irish passion for a certain brand of stout. We traded stories about the fabled beer, and I told him I can't wait to get my first taste of Guinness IN Ireland (they say it's better than the stuff sold elsewhere). Believe it or not, it hasn't happened yet; despite this early good luck, it's been a difficult day. I feel that the first pint will be a blog post unto itself, so get ready for that one. Did I mention that Simon is expecting a new child this Christmas. He's hoping for a boy, to go along with the three other boys that he has, the oldest having recently completed his third trip around the sun (did I type right, he has three and the oldest is three - one more comin'). Simon was coming home to an empty house having left his wife and kids in Edmonton for a few more days. He's looking forward to the quite days at home. Simon, how was that tea?

The aforementioned dunce was a Budget Rental Car agent. He reeked of cologne that I've later discovered all the males reek of over here. If he hadn't been my first association with it, I probably wouldn't mind it, but now I can't get this turkey out of my mind. It's everywhere. I'll spare you the details, and just mention that my little round of Troubles involved the concept of insurance. I hate insurance. Dunce-boy won't be reading this blog.

Having waited around the airport for some 6 hours (part of the Troubles above), I finally hopped in my car (in the end a bigger car and cheaper rate, btw) and realized just how insane it is to drive in the UK. I'm a fairly confident driver so I didn't think this would be a big deal. At one point I thought I was going to have to pull over to puke. Nervous, Oh my God, crazy. The only think worse than driving on the left hand side of the road is doing so from the right hand side of the car. You have no idea where to point your car nor where others are pointing there. It gets worse. What separated oncoming traffic is a dotted white line (you'd recognize it as a passing lane - which it most certainly isn't). No yellow lines here. Really, picture yourself in your car, driving in a large city, and all of your instincts are now traps to fall into. Right hand on the wheel, shift (oh ya, it's a 5-speed of course) with your left, 1st is away from you, 5th is close, wanna check that rear view - look to the left not right. I'll tell you too that you become very aware of what I'll call drift or leaway to use the sailing term. We all have a pretty good sense when seated on the left of where the right edge of the car is. The first bad habit that you fix is the constant desire to veer to the left not knowing where in the hell the left side of the car ends. I'll end this with the only good thing about driving here. Red means stop, green means go - I have to cling to this familiarity. What's even better is that red is stop, and don't go anywhere until the light turns (no left on red - the equivalent to our right on red). Tomorrow, I get out of this city and in to the country. I can't wait.

Ride you ask - but of course. I did manage to get humpty-dumpty back together and in prime working order, I might add, and yes, I left the freakmobile in the lot and went out to see Dublin by bike - proper thing if there ever was one. I think I would have been quite nervous riding around here if it wasn't for the driving experience.

Before I could go too far, food was a necessity. And what to my wandering Canadian eyes should appear:


I shit you not. I could hear Godbold (with ironic detachment) - we can always go to Timmy's. Frig. And what's worse, they kick my Canadian ass out. Kicked me out! Didn't want my bike in their space. As if I needed another reason to hate Tim Horton's. Sorry Sherry, Selena, and any other addicts out there, but seriously, Tim's is only slightly ahead of Nickelback, Rush, and Bass on my most preferred list.

Anyway, I eventually got some food as you can see and proceeded to get lost and found repeatedly in Dublin City on my bike. Managed to find a bike shop open - not the one I wanted to hit - maybe I'll get there tomorrow.

Ok, that first pint is calling my name - it's not yet midnight, I can still have my first pint on my first day.

I'm booked for tomorrow in Clifden, a town in the Connemara home of the twelve pins (mountains), massive sea cliffs, Ireland's only fjord, and plenty of other stuff for a roadie to devour.

Thanks for listening to my vent back there - I promise to be better, but hey I was in the airport all day and I haven't slept for days (doing ok though on that front, no where near as jet lagged as I was last year in London). And thanks for keeping in touch with all the comments too - keep'em comin'.

S
PS A first Blarney Biker Contest - What is the true identity of the commenter called "Maglia Rosa" - first commenter with the correct answer wins...something that I'll find and bring home. Go.
PSS Maglia Rosa, you're excluded from this little game of chance. Sorry.