536 days around the world
The Guinness brewery, a cross between leprechauns and Willy Wonka, with a fabulous outcome.
Standing room only for the St. Patty's day pubs.
Ole Jim decides to partake in some of the festivities.
It's official, every Irishman has fallen off the wagon, assuming any were on in the first place.
St. Paul's cathedral, God has apparently been spotted several times making prank calls from the pictured phone booth.
One last hurray in London.
Randy and I spent our three days in Dublin mainly walking to and from the different pubs in order to watch football matches and receive our daily Guinness rations. We explored around the city as best we could, taking in Trinity College and the Guinness Brewery, as well as some fairly seedy parks, where the highlight was the intricate system that bums have developed in order to live untouched in the woods.
The Guinness Brewery, like the rest of Dublin, was actually a little disappointing. Instead of getting a firsthand look at some of the actual brewing, they just lead you through 4-5 floors of fairly boring details about the beer while the President of Guinness nervously talks to you from a looping video where he actually gets to walk around the brewing. The pinnacle of the tour was upon reaching the top floor, you're given the freshest pint of Guinness you'll ever receive (if nothing else, this redeemed the entire episode) and a "stunning" view of Dublin from the sky scraping 7th story. For those of you who have seen Dublin, you'll know that it's like looking out over a much larger version of Vancouver's East Side. The two of us stayed well after our tour was complete and made it a point to enjoy every beverage that Guinness brews, at discounted prices.
After staying three nights in a dorm of 18 guys (one of which stole my precious headlamp, may he rot and burn in hell for eternity), we were happy to be on our way south to the city of Cork. Due to late planning, our options for where to spend St. Patrick's day were quite limited. Our original choice of Galway wasn't able to work out and so we were forced down to Cork and because of the lack of accommodation, had to book two nights at a posh little B&B. Luckily a posh little B&B was precisely what the doctor ordered after weeks of sleeping in crowded dorm rooms, and it was nice to lie down and simply watch football and rugby instead of being forced out into the ever windy, ever drizzly weather of Ireland. The pub scene of Cork was obviously crowded but we always seemed to be able to squeeze in there, despite the annoying fact of the Irish folk apparently having the worst gas in the world. It seemed like every 15 minutes a new wave of someone's stench would permeate the crowd and force us to plunge our noses back into our pint glasses.
St. Patrick's day itself was pretty much exactly like the other nights, with the difference being far more people and a decent amount of leprechauns walking around. Conversation with the locals was given up at about 10:00 when they all became too drunk and therefore totally unintelligible. Attempts to speak with one would result in a flurry of slurs, spit and slang which you could really only nod in agreement too.
The morning of the 19th we grabbed an early morning flight and jumped back over to London. After doing a little shopping and walking over to St. Paul's cathedral, we met back up with Mike at his hotshot investment firm, before meeting Jason (who had just crossed the channel from France and whom I hadn't seen since December). After feasting once more on a few toad in the holes (the meal inside the yorkshire pudding!), the four of us hit the town for the last bash of the Journey. I'm not exactly sure how the rest of the night went, but I awoke the next morning with the taste of kebab and tequila in my mouth, so I'll scratch it down as a success.
The flight home was made far worse than it needed to be thanks to a long lasting hangover, but when I think about it, that's probably exactly how I would have wished to fly home from this trip. After 16 hours in the air with a small stop in Montreal to talk to a customs agent who was bewildered that Monsieur Blanchet didn't speak a word of french, I landed in YVR at 10:30pm, thus bringing the Journey to a close.
Not much seems to have changed at home really. Aside from my upcoming Unclehood, a much fatter family cat and a bank account that went from a healthy 5 digits to a very sickly 2 digits, it seems like life will pretty much continue where it left off. My last two days have been spent trying to reacquaint myself with the idea of not living out of a bag as well as getting a start on sorting the 9,263 photos I've brought back with me. Things will probably take a few weeks to return to normal, and aside from moving a few of the things of life from the necessity to the luxury column, I can't say that I'm really much different from when I left. As I've always thought, the trip wasn't about "finding myself" (contrary to many of the people I met), it was more about simply taking a look around. After a few months the shock of how awesome a place Vancouver is will wear off and I'll begin whining about everyday things like most everyone else. Life is relative like that I suppose. Eventually the Journey will die out as a conversation topic, and I'll resign myself to boring my family and friends with recycled stories, perhaps getting together with my two travelling companions from time to time to relive old times over some imported beers. Travelling is by no means done for me, but I must assume a trip of this magnitude is a once in a lifetime deal.
Anyhow, this is where my tale ends. For any of you who I managed to entertain a few times a week over the past 18 months, feel free to go on a trip of your own, write a blog and do the same for me. Thanks for tuning in, it's been great!
The Guinness Brewery, like the rest of Dublin, was actually a little disappointing. Instead of getting a firsthand look at some of the actual brewing, they just lead you through 4-5 floors of fairly boring details about the beer while the President of Guinness nervously talks to you from a looping video where he actually gets to walk around the brewing. The pinnacle of the tour was upon reaching the top floor, you're given the freshest pint of Guinness you'll ever receive (if nothing else, this redeemed the entire episode) and a "stunning" view of Dublin from the sky scraping 7th story. For those of you who have seen Dublin, you'll know that it's like looking out over a much larger version of Vancouver's East Side. The two of us stayed well after our tour was complete and made it a point to enjoy every beverage that Guinness brews, at discounted prices.
After staying three nights in a dorm of 18 guys (one of which stole my precious headlamp, may he rot and burn in hell for eternity), we were happy to be on our way south to the city of Cork. Due to late planning, our options for where to spend St. Patrick's day were quite limited. Our original choice of Galway wasn't able to work out and so we were forced down to Cork and because of the lack of accommodation, had to book two nights at a posh little B&B. Luckily a posh little B&B was precisely what the doctor ordered after weeks of sleeping in crowded dorm rooms, and it was nice to lie down and simply watch football and rugby instead of being forced out into the ever windy, ever drizzly weather of Ireland. The pub scene of Cork was obviously crowded but we always seemed to be able to squeeze in there, despite the annoying fact of the Irish folk apparently having the worst gas in the world. It seemed like every 15 minutes a new wave of someone's stench would permeate the crowd and force us to plunge our noses back into our pint glasses.
St. Patrick's day itself was pretty much exactly like the other nights, with the difference being far more people and a decent amount of leprechauns walking around. Conversation with the locals was given up at about 10:00 when they all became too drunk and therefore totally unintelligible. Attempts to speak with one would result in a flurry of slurs, spit and slang which you could really only nod in agreement too.
The morning of the 19th we grabbed an early morning flight and jumped back over to London. After doing a little shopping and walking over to St. Paul's cathedral, we met back up with Mike at his hotshot investment firm, before meeting Jason (who had just crossed the channel from France and whom I hadn't seen since December). After feasting once more on a few toad in the holes (the meal inside the yorkshire pudding!), the four of us hit the town for the last bash of the Journey. I'm not exactly sure how the rest of the night went, but I awoke the next morning with the taste of kebab and tequila in my mouth, so I'll scratch it down as a success.
The flight home was made far worse than it needed to be thanks to a long lasting hangover, but when I think about it, that's probably exactly how I would have wished to fly home from this trip. After 16 hours in the air with a small stop in Montreal to talk to a customs agent who was bewildered that Monsieur Blanchet didn't speak a word of french, I landed in YVR at 10:30pm, thus bringing the Journey to a close.
Not much seems to have changed at home really. Aside from my upcoming Unclehood, a much fatter family cat and a bank account that went from a healthy 5 digits to a very sickly 2 digits, it seems like life will pretty much continue where it left off. My last two days have been spent trying to reacquaint myself with the idea of not living out of a bag as well as getting a start on sorting the 9,263 photos I've brought back with me. Things will probably take a few weeks to return to normal, and aside from moving a few of the things of life from the necessity to the luxury column, I can't say that I'm really much different from when I left. As I've always thought, the trip wasn't about "finding myself" (contrary to many of the people I met), it was more about simply taking a look around. After a few months the shock of how awesome a place Vancouver is will wear off and I'll begin whining about everyday things like most everyone else. Life is relative like that I suppose. Eventually the Journey will die out as a conversation topic, and I'll resign myself to boring my family and friends with recycled stories, perhaps getting together with my two travelling companions from time to time to relive old times over some imported beers. Travelling is by no means done for me, but I must assume a trip of this magnitude is a once in a lifetime deal.
Anyhow, this is where my tale ends. For any of you who I managed to entertain a few times a week over the past 18 months, feel free to go on a trip of your own, write a blog and do the same for me. Thanks for tuning in, it's been great!
A few of the things I've picked up along the way.
The shoes that carried me around the world.
posted by Jordan at 6:52 PM
2 Comments:
Good to know you got back home safe.
Take it easy mate.
martin
After much time in sober reflection I'm still unable to conclude why my belt is so blatantly undone in that photo. Anyways, a lovely conclusion to your online accounts concerning the world. Twain would be proud.
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