Adventures Overseas 7/16

These sixteen updates will be the condensed and often more erratic version of my adventures overseas, comprised of the updates that I sent home to my family at the time.

Author's Disclaimer: The following were written when I traveled overseas with my sister. They were the short and sweet version of what was going on in my daily journal. Often, I watered things down so that our parents wouldn't know how scared we really were or how bad a hostel really was. We didn't want to scare them. Also, I wrote these updates on my iPod, and in the interest of authenticity, I haven't edited or changed the formatting much. This may be less to do with authenticity and more to do with all those darn buttons I'd have to press if I edited it all. Anyway, there are plenty of little typos to go around I'm sure. I'm sorry. They bug me, too.

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Update 7: October 4th 2018 – THURSDAY

Most of what’s happened since I last wrote happened on Monday the 1st. I’ve had this bucket list thing since I was an estimated very young years old. I wanted to go to Ireland, and I wanted to ride a horse there. Since Sister was on board with doing this, too, we booked a ride at Ventry (near Dingle). It was a two-hour ride that took us up the mountain side a bit, then down to the beach. You may ask why I would want to ride a horse: I have, like, ten of them at home to ride. But I don’t have Irish Cobs there. And I can’t ride them in Ireland.

Now stop asking questions.

Anyway, it was really fun. The horses are ‘trained’ by being ridden in the back of the trail for a while. Then they’re pretty much good to go for tourists. As a result, they have basically no training, but are programmed for those trails perfectly. When the lead horse moves off, there’s no stopping the next ones, and when the lead horse stops, there’s no getting the followers going. So one doesn’t exactly have control, but they aren’t ever out of control.

When we got to the beach, we were asked if we wanted to run. Apparently, the horses either go flat out, or walk. All or nothing. Obviously we chose all.

It wasn’t very fast on those short, chubby horses, but their strides are so short that it felt fast, so it was still really fun.

After the horse ride, we drove around the Ring of Dingle; it’s a road that goes along the edge of the Dingle peninsula. It has some beautiful views, and the road, though it’s a little scary, goes right along some cliff faces and over the sea. There were pretty beaches along the way, so we stopped often and walked around, admiring the views and finding more economy souvenirs (rocks and shells).

After that, we went back to Dingle, made some supper for ourselves, went out for ice cream, stressed out about booking a hostel in Munich during Oktoberfest, and went to bed.

In the morning, we decided to go for a run, since we’d be traveling in the car most of the day. We had a route planned that would take us along the beach to a tower called Hussey’s Folly. It was only about a 2-mile round trip, but Sister still managed to go through stinging nettle (I could have sworn they were just wild raspberries), and I biffed it when my lazy-as toe didn’t lift itself enough over a rock. My injury was definitely worse. I will never get those bits of my skin back. Sister complains more, though (so, business as usual).

One day she might actually read these updates, but I’ll probably be out of striking distance, so I like to take liberties.

Anyway...

You may be wondering why I have decided to write again so soon after my last update. Let me tell you.

Sister and I, having already spent the money to rent a car, decided that it would not be fully worth it unless we slept in it for the last two nights that it’s in our possession.

You may think, “Oh my. That is a bad idea.”

I guessed that you would think that because it is roughly along the lines of what Sister and I myself were thinking when we made these plans.

Sometimes we go into our bad plans fully aware of how bad they are. That makes us either well-informed and resilient or just plain stupid. I think you all know which one I’m going to choose to believe.

On Tuesday the 2nd, we left Dingle in the afternoon (after the best fish and chips meal we’ve ever had), and drove up, past Galway, to Connemara National Park. Letterfrack is the little town we decided to park near, and it was around 8pm when we found suitable spot for our mobile hotel.

After about an hour of twisting myself into every possible position in the car (Sister lay peacefully reclined in the passenger seat: she has a much less turbulent night life than I), I made the miraculous discovery that the back seat folded down to open into the boot (trunk) of the car. I was able to squirm a surprising amount of myself back into this area, and I was, at last, comfortable (‘comfortable’ being relative to a state of stuffed-in-a-car-boot). Trying not to let my darn imagination run wild with images of how terribly awful it would be if someone broke into the boot and grabbed my leg, I eventually managed to get to sleep.

The tossing and turning that had kept me warm before was soon sapped away into the night. At about 2am, I decided that my coat, which had been sheltering my feet, was required for my torso. Since I was up and about anyway, I dug out my skirt and another sweater from my backpack, reached up to the dash of the car for my toque, and draped our two tiny travel towels over myself. Somehow, Sister managed to slumber on in the front seat, unaware of my discomfort, the inconsiderate butt.

I got a little bit more sleep there, then I woke up again, too cold this time to consider getting back to sleep.

It was time to start the car.

In a spectacular series of contortions, controlled falls, uncontrolled falls, and general squeezing, I managed to get myself into the driver’s seat before Sister finally woke up, though, unfortunately, I was backwards, so my job was not done. It is unbelievable what that girl can sleep through. Since she was up, I was finally able to complete my transition by using her to pry myself around.

By the time I got to where I could reach the clutch, I was pretty warmed up with the exercise and frustration (not to mention resentment towards a sister who was sleeping instead of being miserable with me). I started it, anyway, and the hum of the engine, as well as the warm blast of air, lulled me to sleep.

I woke up before long and turned the car off. I just stayed in the reclined seat, then, because it was too hard to get back to the boot.

I didn’t get unbearably cold again, and I managed to sleep, on and off, until about 10am.

Sister’s take on this adventure would be far less exciting. She just slept. Again I say, the butt.

I found out later in the day that we had each been asleep on and off since 8am, but we had taken it in turns to look around at one another to see if the other was awake yet. Each of us were incredulous at how long the other was sleeping in.

Anyway, the reason I have so much time to write is that we’re in a cafe of sorts, charging all of our things.

We went to Connemara National Park in the afternoon and hiked up Diamond Hill. The terrain looks a lot like the Scottish Highlands; they have some history in the peat moss industry there, so we learned something new!

That hike pretty much used up the afternoon, and since we have to return the car on Thursday, we drove back towards Galway.

And then dawned the second night in the car. Or dusked. Because dusk.

I mean, you haven’t really done a dumb thing properly until you’ve done it twice in succession.

Besides, I had a plan for the night. It dawned on me (or maybe it mid-afternooned on me) that my feet wouldn’t freeze if I burrowed them underneath our massive backpacks.

This way, I could slumber comfortably in the boot of the car all the night long.

This was a good plan. I was excited for this plan. I was even excited to sleep in the car again, I was so sure it would work.

That evening, as we were layering up and settling in, I discovered that all of the seats in the back folded down. Sister caught sight of this and the perniciously heavy sleeper inquired after the possibility of joining my cave of comfort.

I thought about it for a moment, and it seemed like a great idea. First of all, our combined body heat would be a great asset, and secondly, it would surely be inevitable that I would wake her up when I tossed and turned, close quarters as they were. It was a win-win, really.

I thought.

In reality, which always seems to hit me out of nowhere, she kept me awake by taking up an outrageous amount of space that once belonged exclusively to me. It was warmer than the previous night, to be sure, but this was due to my marvelously brilliant plan of burrowing my feet under the backpacks. In fact, having to fight Sister for the space only made it more difficult to warm my feet. She even had the audacity to reach down and move her backpack OFF OF MY FEET AFTER I HAD FINALLY WORMED MY WAY UNDER IT BY THREADING MY LEGS THROUGH HERS BECAUSE HER LEGS WERE ALL UP IN MY SPACE!!!

I was very close to reaching down and doing the same. But then neither of us would have anywhere to stick our toes.

Somehow, and I don’t know how, we both found ourselves awake at 4am, looking at our watches, wondering how much time we had left. That is to say, I don’t know how we made it to 4 am. I know very well how we ended up awake at the same time. It was due to an epic wrestling match disguised as a simultaneous, partially-asleep reorganization of limbs in the boot of a car. There were backpack straps, coats, and our own entangled legs involved.

The moral of the story is, don’t ever share your bed in the boot of a car with Sister. Aesop may have had more applicable morals, but I think this one will stick with me pretty well.

All in all, we survived the ordeal and have returned the car in Galway.

The roads are safe from my driving, and the pull-outs are free from our squatting lifestyle.

What I meant by that last sentence was that we'd no longer be sleeping in the car in a pull-out, but I realize now that it kind of sounds like the pull-outs would be safe from us stopping for a pee.

It's both, really.