"We flushed it down the toilet."

I’m going to try and recap a couple of days in one entry so here goes…

On Friday, I needed to go to Galway to return my rental car and pick up a new one.  Budget just wasn’t cutting it as far as price goes; Hertz was going to be better.  While I was there I thought I’d see the sights in Galway, which took me about an hour and a half.  I’m sure it’s a lovely city to live in but as far as tourism, there’s only a little to see, at least as far as I was able to uncover. 

The funny thing about Galway is the story of trying to get to the airport to pick up my new car!  I had discovered that since the Galway airport is teeny tiny, there were not that many ways to get there, namely a bus once a day (which I had missed) or a taxi or my own two feet.  No one suggested walking; I just thought it might be a way I could save some money since the traffic was crazy that day and a taxi the whole way would have cost an arm and a leg!  So, I set out in the direction of the airport, thinking that I would walk until it wasn’t safe to walk (ie: I reached the motorway where there is no shoulder to walk on) and then I would call a taxi.  On the way I watched taxis drive by and memorized the phone numbers on them so that I could call one when I needed.  I thought the phone numbers seemed awfully short, 6 numbers instead of the usual 9.  “Maybe that’s just a special way to call a taxi”, I thought.  Sometimes, I’m not that bright.  After walking for awhile and having to climb over a fence and a wall, I reached the motorway.  Brilliant, I thought, I’ll just call the taxi now from this gas station.  But strangely enough, the phone numbers I had memorized didn’t work and didn’t work and didn’t work.   Feeling a little distressed, I went into a neighboring car dealership where a very nice receptionist was kind enough to call me a taxi and give me the phone number for future reference.  Sure enough, I was missing the first three numbers, much like an area code.  They said I could wait inside which was nice of them.  So I waited, and waited, and waited.  I was concerned because what happens when you are late to pick up a rental car?  Do you get charged or do they refuse you your car?  I don’t know!  Half an hour later, they are closing and the girl notices I am still there, “Are you still waiting for your taxi?!”  To which I replied yes and so she called them again.  Traffic was indeed bad and she was told that someone was on their way.  About 45 minutes after the initial call, a taxi pulled up and I was taken to the airport.  If it took him 30-45 minutes just to get to me, can you imagine how much it would have cost me if I had gotten a cab right from downtown?  All of a sudden, walking and fence hopping didn’t seem so bad.   And in case you were wondering, nothing bad happens when you are a little late to pick up your rental car; actually, no one even mentioned it.  J 

The next day dawned bright and sunny so I decided to take a trip to Achill Island.  It’s like an island but not really because it’s connected to the mainland by a bridge.  But it’s supposed to be very scenic and there are lots of villages to explore and some hikes to do.  Well, Achill Island definitely did not disappoint!  It was amazingly beautiful and honestly, I don’t even have the words to describe it.  (there are photos and videos on my web album if you want to check it out) 

One of the highlights of the day was chatting with a Dublin-er on the top of this hill we had both climbed.  He was with two other guys but I don’t know where they were.  Mostly he was funny because it was interesting to talk to a city person who had ventured into the “country” for a visit.  (it’s a bank holiday weekend here in Ireland, a long weekend, so lots of Irish folk were on mini holidays)  We talked about the roads and I learned that not every Irish person is used to driving on roads like I have experienced, he said that because there was no motorway all the way out here, they had been crawling along through these little “provincial” towns (he actually used the word provincial) and the locals were always behind them bullying them to go faster.   Actually, they did go VERY slow; I followed them out from the beach and eventually, I became the bully behind them because they were going about 40 km/hr!  And he said that you can tell where someone is from in the country based on their license plate number so the locals know who is from the “big city” and who is actually from around here.  His funniest quote had to be during our discussion of the Irish economy, “Economy? What economy?  Oh, didn’t you hear?  We flushed it down the toilet.”  It’s always interesting to get the local perspective.