Howth you doin'?

Having tasted the sense of adventure of traveling on our own, Kathleen and I could not wait until the next weekend to partake in another escapade. So after another grueling week of classes, we decided to go on a day tour a little closer to home in Howth, a peninsula off of Dublin. Kathleen, Lauren, Hannah and I made the trip to Howth on Saturday morning by first taking the train to Dublin, meeting up with the tour group and then back to the same train station that we just arrived from. We boarded the train and within twenty minutes we reached Howth. Howth is a quaint fishing town outside of the hustle and bustle of Dublin, abundant with golf courses and a small mountain overlooking Dublin bay. Our tour guide, Alita, the same Argentinian woman who showed us around Dublin city a few weekends ago began to haul our group of visitors up the hill that led across a private castle and golf course. As we marched up the side of the hill, my thighs were on fire and I couldn’t imagine going up anything more difficult. I was wrong.

Wish this was my backyard

These pictures do not capture the true beauty of Howth

Standing on the top of the hill, I could trace the entirety of the Dublin bay and city with my eyes. As I was soaking in the beauty of the city before me, Alita turned us around to see the mountain towering over us and pointed to the summit where a group of people were standing, and announced that is where we were heading. First, we had to explore the jungle at the foot of the mountain, and of course we chose the adventure path. Little did we know that the path was almost nonexistent underneath the layers of gooey mud. Jumping from rock to rock, avoiding the soggiest patches of mud in boots that were not conducive to outdoor jungle mountain trekking, I managed to make it through to the clearing with a massive tree without falling in the mud. However, upon gazing at the tree my instincts were to climb it. Anyone who has spent any amount of time with me knows that I am a klutz with no balance or coordination, so tree climbing is not my forte. I refused to let that stop me as I placed my foot on the wide trunk of the tree. Somehow while clambering up the twisty branches of the tree I managed to climb the furthest and the highest of all the climbers in the group.  Sitting, cradled in the net of branches, I listened to Alita spin a tale of Irish mythology, and as it neared its end I found my way back down roughly without a scratch (just a bruise that would surface later that night as a result of a graze on a branch.) We then trampled our way onto a gravel path, free of mud and adventure, until we reached the foot of the mountain.

These boots were not made for walking up a mountain or in the mud

My view from the base of the tree

My view from the top of the tree 

"Every rock in Ireland has a legend" 

The base of the mountain began with easy looking stairs, so I thought that this would be a relatively relaxed climb. Wrong. The stairs ended as soon as we turned the corner and the trees became dense, so we were forced to hike up the rocky path, dodging mud patches and low hanging branches. To make matters more difficult, Alita, used to the unruly trail, quickly made her way up and we soon lost sight of her and the group. However, we made it to the summit and the group. The view upon the top of the mountain was breathtaking. Literally, I was out of breath thanks to my asthma. As I used my inhaler and took photos of the scenery I let the harsh wind bring life back to my lungs and try not to keep my balance. Photos taken we then made our way back down the mountain around the other side, which was much rockier, hillier, and longer than the way up. Exhausted from our hike thus far, I quickly fell behind the group and my friends because I had to concentrate all of my strength on breathing and putting one foot in front of the other, but I carried on. Towards the end of the hike around, we had to march up a rather difficult hill and I was done. My chest tightened, wheezing sounds escaped from my mouth, my eyesight blurred, and my feet swayed, unable to keep me upright and walking. Thankfully, Kathleen glanced back, noticed the difficulties I was having and came to my aid. I managed to squeak out that I couldn’t see well, and she took my arm, making sure I made it down the mountainside without tumbling down or losing my lungs. Soon we made it to the pub for lunch, and with an empty stomach and a fatigued body I was so relieved to have a not very Mexican quesadilla and a Bulmers.

I told you it was windy

"And I like it so well that for all I can tell I may never come down to Earth again!"

The hills that would take us back down

Working the wind

Not working with the wind

"When the yellow grose flowers bloom the kissin' is good"

With hot food and a beer in my system (hey it’s Ireland what did you expect) I had regained much of my strength and was ready to take on the cliffs of Howth. We walked along a very narrow path against the very edge of the cliffs with the Irish Sea right below us. The view was beautiful, and all of our photo stops caused us to lag behind our tour guide once again. Only occasionally would I trip over my own feet or the rocks laying in the path, but no major fall until the very end of the walk around the cliffs. At the conclusion of the path there were these large stones that doubled as stairs to walk down, me thinking I was cool and coordinated enough decided to jump off the last stair onto the ground. No I wasn’t cool or coordinated enough. I landed on my two feet but then rolled and fell down off the path.  Laughing and pulling myself up, we made our way down to Howth.

I should have paid more attention to this sign...

Making the descent 

Kathleen being cute

Don't fall off!

Breathtaking 

This is the day Kathleen photobombed

On the shorre 

On our way back towards the train station, we saw one of the places W.B Yeats lived in, lots of beautiful houses that sat along the edge of the sea, and lastly some seals popping their heads up out of the water in the harbor. By mid-afternoon we were exhausted and ready to head back into Dublin. As soon as we made it back into the city center, we boarded a bus that would take us home. 

Don't Trust the Bus

Waking on Saturday morning after a long day, I managed to pry my eyes open after a girl, who I thought was Kathleen, came to the edge of my bed and said get up. I didn’t realize until later that she was waking up her friend who slept on the bunk above me and it wasn’t Kathleen; either way it woke me up. Once dressed and down stairs eating breakfast, we said our goodbyes to our roommates, and made our way out into Galway. We strolled to the Galway City Museum where they had a local orchestra playing in the lobby. It provided peaceful accompaniment to my learning about Galway’s history, as I shuffled around the artifacts. I made my way through the upper floors of the small museum, taking in all the knowledge I could before stopping to listen to an oboist play in a gallery. Upon his concluding note, Kathleen and I left the museum and back towards the shopping alleyways to pick up some souvenirs.

Pretty much sums up how cute Galway is

Spanish archway

            Before making it into a shop, we decided to eat a hearty brunch at an adorable bakeshop and café. I chose to try the traditional Irish breakfast, and it was a delicious decision. The bacon, sausage, beans, potatoes, egg, and even the pudding filled me up for the rest of the day. We then walked into one shop so Kathleen could buy herself a Guinness sweater, and by the time we exited it was pouring rain. Dodging the other drenched pedestrians we made it into another shop so I could purchase a Connemara marble necklace that I had been eyeing for days. I love my necklace and I wear it around my neck every day. Slightly hungry, we managed to find a cupcake shop that we had spotted the other day. The rain was coming down so heavily that I could barely see Kathleen ahead of me; she happened to be wearing a bright teal bow that I would occasionally spot bouncing on the back of her head, and that’s how I knew I was going in the right direction. Thankfully we never got lost or separated. Now, soaked by the rain, but content with our souvenirs and cupcakes we decided that we were ready to go back home. We picked up our backpacks from the hostel and made our way to the bus station, got on the bus to Dublin and were soon home.

"I lost my heart to a Galway girl"

Irish Breakfast, so good!

            We had to come home on Saturday instead of Sunday because early on Sunday morning we were scheduled to go to the Garda station (police station) to register with immigration. The Garda station was a town over, so we had to take the bus as if we were going into Dublin, but get off only ten minutes into the bus ride, which still cost over two euros. However, the bus, which we had ridden many times before, always taking the same route, decided this time to take a different route and bypass the town that the Garda station was located in. As soon as that bus turned right off a roundabout instead of going straight through it I felt my heart skip a beat, and looked at Kathleen for an answer, even though her face reflected the same hopelessly lost expression I wore. Kathleen pulled up a map on her phone and found out where we could get off nearest to the Garda station. After a twenty minute detour, we finally pulled through the right town, so we quickly got off the bus and backtracked to the Garda station. Somehow, after nearly having a heart attack, we made it slightly early. We were both approved to stay in the country until the end of the semester thankfully. Once finished with immigration we stood at the nearest bus stop, waiting almost an hour in the frigid, early March morning air for a bus to finally come pick us up and take us home. Our trip to get immigrated took nearly the whole morning, and we were starving with no food in our pantry after our vacation, so we stopped in Dunnes and I got a French baguette, while Kathleen purchased a loaf of brown bread. By the time we made it home, we sat at our kitchen table in our apartment, eating our bread with butter and jam, while sipping tea and reflecting over our long weekend adventure and how not to trust the bus as the rain pattered at the glass of the windows.