Aahh, me bollocks

After 12 hrs of sleep last night, I'm back! I haven't slept that well since college and certainly not without the help of any booze.

After posting last night, Matt and I went for dinner. We were heading for a place the guidebook suggested when Matt turns to me and says, "Hey, how do you feel about Chinese?" I said, "I love Chinese!" because I really do. So we busted a u-turn on the sidewalk and headed back to this place we saw earlier. Now here's the thing, in all 15 (give or take) countries I've visited. I've found that Chinese food is, Chinese food, is Chinese food. It's like the global McDonalds, but you don't look like a jackass American going into the "Tasty Dragon" in Ireland. Feel me? Anyway, we walk in this place to find 2 tables, one already occupied by 4 nasty lookin' blokes. I mean, these guys could churn the paint of walls. Matt and I felt right at home. We walk up to the counter and ask if this place is only take-away. She says no, so we sit down. Meanwhile, her banshee bastard of a kid starts wailing in this god-awful Chinese/Irish mix at the top of his lungs. Matt and I pick up the tabloids (best thing in the U.K., truly vicious) and in about five mins our food comes out. About now, you're probably wondering (and if you're not, you lead a very boring life) "what the hell is this doing in, what started as, a very promising and interesting Blog." Hang on mum, we're getting there. So they bring this stuff out in, I shit you not, Tupperware containers. I don't mean the good stuff we always swipe from Mom's. No, I'm talking about the .99 stuff you get at the Wal-Mart. Matt and I were starving so we scarffed it down, sharpish. In the 15 mins it took us to walk back home, we were hungry. See, Chinese food really is the great equalizer.

So this morning we woke up, had breakfast (smoked salmon and scrambled eggs the English/Irish never really got the hang of breakfast if you ask me, but this kicked ass) and hit the road. It was at this point we discovered the Irish's knack of the understatement. Our host, Paul O'Shea (yeah, it turns out they really do have red hair and names like O'Connor and Flannery) says to us, "it'll be a wee bit blustery today". Now, as a resident of Fort Worth, I'm used to "blustery". What I'm not used to is, "holy shit this wind is going to blow me Batswana".

Let me preface all this by saying after yesterday's experience, Matt and I decided (read: I put a knife to his throat last night and made him swear" that we'd find a new system for driving. So I suggested (read: showed him the knife again) that I drive and he shift/navigate. We'll it turns out that was too many things for Matt. We finally settled into a nice "Mark drives, shifts and navigates while Matt point shit out we missed because he announced it about 50 meters behind us". I gota say not bad, not bad.

Anyway, we head out on this coast road that makes the Amalfi Coast road or Route 1 look like a boulevard. It's only about 30 miles round trip but it took us 4hrs counting lunch. Amazing rocky cliffs jet up 300 feet below a severely pissed off ocean. We stopped every now and then for a picture or a look. There is this set of islands just off the shore of Ireland called the Blasket Islands which were inhabited until 1958 when the crazy buggers were forced off by Irish government. Now, don't think of this as some, tragic, Indian Relocation Policy or anything. I was out there for 10 minutes and would have rather jumped off one of the cliffs than spend anther minute up there. These people were off their fucking (just for you Mom) rockers. Lunatics. You bet your bollocks to a barn dance, you'd force them off too.

An interesting side note, the wind blows in a clock-wise motion about 50 miles and hour. Matt and I learned that if you tilt your head just right, you can create a snot rocket of epic proportions. The wind actually goes up your nose and forced everything out. Awesome. Matt's was even straight for once. Conversely, you become very dizzy after pissing beside the car. Also, wash the car after pissing beside it. Your brother may need a hosing off as well.

So we came home, tried calling people (answer your cell phone Paul!) and took a nap. I love naps. I miss them so. Matt woke me up to hail, yes hail, pea size hail. Fun stuff. I'm really glad I don't have any warm cloths. It would just be too comfortable. Remind me to write United a thank you note when I get home.

Matt and I are going to hit the pubs tonight and see if I can convince them to stay open past midnight. They could learn a thing or two from the Spanish. My guess is the Irish view it as quality over quantity. More drinking is less time. I can appreciate that. I'll let you know.

Mark "Sean-Patrick" Mitchell