JandalsnAll

I think its fate and Im not sure I like it. Just to remind you I’ve been thinking Im going to have to get some work very soon, or else find some rich foreigner to marry in exchange for lots of money and a fun and fancy-free lifestyle. The only foreigners I can find are Australians and they spend all their money on beer. I tried to no avail in Doolin, oh sweet Doolin, (to find work that is, not rich foreigners) and so made the move onwards.

On Wednesday I did, as I intended and did previously state, catch a ferry to Inishmor, the larger of the Aran Islands off the coast of Galway. The ferry trip was an experience and not a pleasant one. The crazy weather showed no signs of relenting and extreme winds meant huge swells and thus vomiting children. But I made it through the 40 minutes relatively unscathed in all the ways that count the most.

I’d been reccomended a hostel by American girl Ryan, fellow veggie head, who raved about the place.. So that was where I was headed. On the ferry I met Ana, a Swede – from Sweden funnily enough, who was herself headed to the hostel to work for the busy weekend ahead and possibly into the summer. And actually, prior to catching the ferry I chatted to an Italian girl who also raved about it and talked about going back there to work for the summer.

And so it is that I find myself with a job. A job I do need, but am rather reluctant to face up to. Not that it will be a bad job but it is a job nonetheless and we all know how much I love a ninetofiver. Not that it will be a ninetofiver either but thats not necesarily better. We’ll see. The impending busy weekend has turned out to be a busy Saturday til Tuesday, with a group of 60 Irish students booking out the place. And Im not getting paid at the moment but then again Im not spending anything. Herein lies my dilemma. So yes, we will see.

My place of work consists of a downstairs hostel (very basic and rather cold) and private rooms Also downstairs is a cosy little cafe/restaurant section where food is served to the people staying as well as the public. So I will soon be reintroduced to the joy that is cafe work.

Chores so far have included cleaning out and rearranging kitchen shelves, which revealed evidence of an ancient colony of Irish mice and an antique packet of biscuits best before 1997 – unopened. Apparently they arent that strict out here when it comes to kitchen hygiene – and if the health inspector decides to visit, the guy on the ferry knows what he looks like and rings a warning round the whole island. That was yesterday. Today I cleaned out more shelves and found many more treasures. I think they’ve been in desperate need of a woman’s touch – albiet my not so domesticated nor particularly womanly one. Dont worry I’ll sort em out. Ana was given the unenvied task of cleaning upstairs and downstairs, inside and out – apparently the toilets left a bit (not to be confused with ‘alot’ now) to be desired – again with the womans touch. But I can assure you, if you ever want to visit, that the facilities are spic n span and under control. I may not be tidy but I’ve inherited the Armstrong germ paranoia and I hereby swear I will endeavour to use this God-given phobia to the best of my ability. And the old ingredients aren’t ever used anyway, thats why they’re still there. They’re just for decoration.

And now I shall moan about the weather. Its been freeeezing and the hostel is right on the hill, in the direct path of all the bad weather making its way across the sea from Ireland. The wind is the worst. It is beginning to ease up now but the last few days its been slowly driving me insane. And slowly is the worst way to go crazy because you cant just fall straight into happy oblivion. I did wonder as I spread my toast with toothpaste this morning if maybe something was amiss but couldnt quite put my finger on it…so I reassured myself everything was okay and poured myself another glass of orange scented floor cleaner.

Yesterday I braved the wind – no the wind is my friend – and took a walk through the middle of the island. Once you walk up far enough away from the village and the bay at the base of the island all you can see in every direction are grids of stone walls and rocky barren landscape. It’s total isolation and I was totally alone. I walked for about two hours up a gravel path and didn’t see a single person. It was great – and just a little scary.

Today, I took my initial exploration a little further and decided to try to get over to the other side of the island where the Atlantic ocean hits the cliff face. Unfortunately the map I had was rather redundant – I attempted to follow it despite the fact that it had several references in the text to the year 1992….
I ended up clambering my way over wall and dale trying to get to the central track I knew was out there somewhere…over in that general direction…I did eventually hit the coast and walked my way again over stonewall and dale but luckily not over the cliff face – amazing as it is. Just like a minature Cliffs of Moher.

I walked probably for about an hour and reached the remains of one of the old forts here on Inishmor. I havent been to the big one yet, but this one was cool because I was the only tourist stupid enough to try to get there and therefore alone in the experience. The view was great due to the strategic positioning of the fort. Strategically positioned soley for the pleasure of a great view of the Atlantic that is.

According to the map there should have been a path leading almost straight back to the hostel. There was no path. There were some rocks and lots of giant cow dung which had me a little worried. I started the arduous trek back across the island (across wall and dale) wary of any places that looked capable of hiding a giant cow, and eventually found a track which led me all the way down to the bay and near round the other side. Suprisingly, this track wasn’t on the map and was nowhere near the hostel. But I made it back and all in all had a fairly pleasant 4 hour walk. There was some sun, and the everpresent wind, oh and some hail and sleet, but all in all fairly pleasant. God bless my new jacket for it has done many great things (and cost EU100 not EU200). The good thing about being on the top of the island is you’ve got a great vantage point from which to see the incoming weather. So if you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere and see a storm blowing in you can quickly find some stray rocks and build yourself a fort – or a castle – the tourists will pay more to see a castle.

I met two farmers on my way – the only locals Ive seen so far. One ignored me. The other encounter went something like this:
(farmer) ‘Hello?’ (in a questioning tone hence the question mark)
(me) ‘hello’
(farmer) ‘nice day’
(me)’ its a lovely day’
(farmer) ‘very good ta ta’
And he was off. I think I passed the test. I think I was ‘very good’. Other than those two farmers theres just been alot of tour vans and the odd tourist on a bike. Everythings pretty shut up but I guess it’ll come alive as summer comes.

So far, Inishmor is beautiful in its own way, but Im not sure how I feel about staying here for a matter of months. I think my heart is still in Doolin. However, tomorrows supposed to be a ripper of a day (on an Irish scale anyway) and maybe Inishmor will grow on me in the sunshine. I guess I’ll just see where fate leads me.

Tags: Travel

This entry was posted on Friday, April 8th, 2005 at 1:01 pm and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.