Killarney

I see now people are actually reading this blog. sweet.
Traveling alone, to those that have not tried it, is simply dank. I don't want to stop, I don't want to go home, much less run out of money. When I travelled before it was with my parents, and towards the ends of those trips I would often get anxious to be back home in my room. I thought it was homesickness but now I realize I just wanted privacy, and to get away from mom and dad. A few days before I left for Ireland I started to get a bit nervous; would I get lonely? Homesick?
No. There is space around me every where I go, because I don't know anyone. But all I have to do is reach out, smile at someone, ask them how long they've been travelling, and the friendship between travellers buds. I've realized I have a skill at getting people to trust me, and subspequently drop me off places. After I wrote that last post in Kilkenny, I went to St. Patrick's Cathedral, a amazing structure, very picture-worthy (today I looked back on all my pictures so far and realized they're all of stone- abbeys, churches, castles, ruins, that's all I've captured). Anyway, I was dying to get out to this huge ruin called Kells priory, about 10 or 15 km outside of Kilkenny. I could have walked or hitched, but that wouldn't have gotten me back before dark. So I went up to the first guy I saw in the cathedral, and started chit-chatting about the difference between the nave and the chancel. It was Ricardo, with his wife Claudia, from Rome. Soon enough I convinced them we should all go to Kells. After a lot of direction-asking, we arrived at the ruin in the middle a fields. No admission fees here, just sheep. The place was huge and awesome. The Italians said "thank you! If you hadn't come up to us we would have never seen this amazing place!" They ended up giving me their adress and number in Rome and told me to visit and stay with them.
I've lined in with a sort of routine. In the morning, get breakfast, and consult the Bus Eirann schedules. Catch the numerous buses to my destination, then drop my pack off at a hostel, and get lunch. Then explore, and repeat. Breakfast and lunch are capped at 10 EURO, dinner at 20.
Anyway, back to the travelling. From Kilkenny I went to Cashel, where the famous Rock of Cashel, a castle/cathedral on a tall outcrop reigns the countryside. I went to the Rock, and then wanted to go to Athassel Priory, about 15km out of town. I could have walked it, but then I heard some people asking for directions to the same place. I took my chances, and ended up getting a ride to Athassel (near a town named Golden) from Erica and her husband whose name I forget. Both young New Yorkers who've actually heard of a place called Westchester. This priory was not as big as Kells, but just as remote. We had the whole place to ourselves. After the now compulsory picture of me and the newest person(s) who have helped me out, we set out. At Golden, they were going the other way, so I walked back to Cashel. On the way back I also checked out Hore Abbey. That was one day, yesterday.
This morning I got the full Irish breakfast (bacon, egg, toast, tea, and tomato), and took a bus to Cork, and another to Killarney, and dropped off my pack at Neptune's hostel, which has free internet, and thus affords this post. The west of Ireland is different. The countryside is rockyer, the mountains steeper. The bushes are thick with ferns. There are other ways but I cant describe them. I guess I'm just nearer to the sea than I've been so far.
Killarney is the base from which many many tourists explore the famed Ring of Kerry, a route of spectacular scenery around the Iveragh Peninsula. Without a car, I daren't attempt it. Instead I will do some hiking in the closer area, where lakes and mountains abound. This afternoon I did a river walk. A persisten downpour refreshed me from hours of airtight busriding, and also soaked my shoes. I think I'm going to have to dry them with a hairdryer, which is always a good opening for a girl (I forgot they're not bitties here, just lasses).
Tomorow, after the hiking, I will go south a bit down the road to Kenmare, where there's more hiking and less tourists, and north a bit up the road to Dingle, where the same applies. All this is in County Kerry, on the southwest coast of Ireland, so my cup-shaped semi-circle around the island is starting to take form.
I'm getting organized in my baggage. The brunt of the shit goes in the pack, which is eagerly gotten rid of at the hostel or the bus. Then I have the backpack from school. In it is my guidebook, map, raincoat, pocketknife, bottle of water, and novel (Trinity by Leon Uris, about Ireland, coincidentally). In my left pocket is my wallet and two passports. In my right pocket is my camera. In my head is a Beatles song that's echoed for the whole trip: Get Back. It's got a great walking rhythm to it.
I look forward to writing my thoughts down. Sometimes I think of stuff I'll write in the blog, but I forget it. I also forget what day it is, and how long I've been here.
I'm gonna get dinner now.
Keep up with the comments, they're hilarious and make me smile.
Take it easy,
Danny