Spot of tea

Intro story: When I was little, I never understood the story of the Boston tea party.  Like, yeah, dumping a bunch of expensive tea into the ocean is kind of low.  But really.  Come on.  It's just tea.

Now I understand.

The Irish - like the British, I'm sure - live off their tea.  It's hilarious.  Quite literally any time any person goes into the kitchen for any reason, they make tea and offer some to everyone around them.  My average tea consumption per day has recently increased to a minimum of four cups.  And, like the Scottish, the Irish don't just drink tea - they drink it loaded with milk and sugar.  At first I was resistant, but I have totally given in and the result is worth it.  The sugar takes out the bitter of the tea, and the milk just makes it perfectly creamy and delightful.  I'm a fan, and it's easy to see why everyone here is such a fan.  So, cheers, colonial America, for hitting the British where it really, really hurt.

So anyway.  As should have been expected, yesterday did not go according to my excellent plan. Guess why? ... If you said, "Because you missed the bus because that's what you always do, hahahaha," you can go die now. I'm insulted.

Except that you're totally right. This time it legitimately wasn't my fault, though!  I made it to the bus.  I was there.  I saw it.  I stood next to it and looked in and there was no one inside.  So I went inside the Tourist Office (designated meeting place) to see if maybe they were in there.  Didn't look like it, but I waited behind this other clueless tourist at the HELP MEEEE counter [not its actual name] to ask, but they were taking too long so I went back outside...and WATCHED my bus drive away.  Oops, there it goes.  Of course, it was pouring down rain at this point, so I'm sprinting through the puddles in the rain after the bus, but there was no way I was going to catch it.  They were outta there.  I still DO not understand where on earth that driver came from.  I kind of stood there dumbfounded that I could miss yet ANOTHER bus, muttered some choice words, and finally went dejectedly back into the tourist office to look for something else to do.  (Convenient place to be, when you need to find something touristy to do.)  The brochure rack was totally unhelpful, so I went to aforementioned counter to ask if there was another tour to the Cliffs of Moher.  The lady was very sympathetic when I told her I missed the bus (she has no idea how unworthy of her pity I am in this regard), and called my tour company to ask if I could go tomorrow.  They said yes.  So that's nice, but I still had a whole day to fill, and spending it in Limerick again didn't sound too appealing.  So after hopping a bus home, getting off a mile too early, slogging home, making myself cup of tea number two for the day, doing some internet searching, getting on another bus, making it to the train station (right stop this time, even), and successfully handling the ticket machine, I was on a train to Galway.

It was a great day.  The train ride was beautiful, and Galway was so much fun - they have this great area of town (that actually a lot of the cities here do) that's blocked off to anyone but pedestrians, and it's entirely filled with adorable little shops.  So I went shopping.  Bought several things for gifts, plus some deliciously soft Donegal tweed yarn for knitting, and a cute claddagh ring.  That was my plan for my main souvenirs of Ireland - Irish yarn and a claddagh ring.  Success.  (PS - I still have no real idea how to pronounce "claddagh."  Is it "cladduh"?  "Claddag"?  I still haven't heard anyone say it and it's driving me crazy.)  And then when I was done, I took the train home again and had fish and chips for dinner, which were very very fried, very very salty, and very very good.

So, today, God willing, I'm off to the Cliffs of Moher.  I'm going to leave the house like an hour early and stand outside that bus like it's my job.