Green Eyes from Tipperary – Doolin, Ireland
Green Eyes from Tipperary
|The Rock of Cashel- The Seat of Ireland’s Ancient Kings|
Upon our return to the Rainbow Hostel, drinking games awaited us. A raucous evening spent with hostel girls ensued. Drinks were drunk, karaoke was sung, and late night pizza was craved but not purchased…
“Depend on the rabbit’s foot if you will, but remember it didn’t work for the rabbit.”
Any logical person would understand that the misfortunes I have experienced thus far on my journey are the result of my own lack of skill, ability, and knowledge. I am not a logical person. I believe it is bad luck. I have been cursed. Though my understanding of the mystical realm is a little shaky, one of my students told me that the only way to reverse a curse of bad luck, is to catch and eat a leprechaun.
My trip to Ireland was about three things. Finding love, changing my streak of bad luck, and finding the missing pieces of my soul; it was not about eating a human subspecies. And so, I decided to compromise and go on a mission to fall in love with a female leprechaun; thus completing at least two of my missions.
|Burial mounds in the countryside outside Dublin, a great place to catch female leprechauns|
Finally to the west coast. My favourite place on earth. The day was filled with outdoor adventures; Gail force winds, swimming in the Atlantic Ocean at Coumenole Beach, riding a dolphin in Dingle, and peeing on my face at the edge of the universe (this was a wind related accident; no personal pleasure was gained). That night to Doolin, where Guinness was drank, traditional music was played, and seduction went awry. After being pursued by middle aged women from the USA, I saw her. Her black hair shone like a new pint of Guinness, her emerald eyes stared deep into the tattered remains of my soul. Audrey from Tipperary; screw the mission, I was in love. After a half hour of failed attempts to be dark and handsome, she left my life as quickly as she entered it. Irish women are sirens.
|Mitch, my travelling companion, at the Cliffs of Mohr|
After a stop at a whisky distillery, we returned to fair Dublin city, slept through a Halloween party at our hostel, and returned to Leeds in the morning.
I think the Irish have it right:
“Here’s to a long life and a merry one.
A quick death and an easy one.
A pretty girl and an honest one.
A cold beer – and another one!”