Nimmos, Rainbows, and Swans

Did I tell you about how when we found the bus to Galway from Dublin it almost left us on the curb and took our luggage?  Okay, well I'll get on that.
So Mad Jack and I running on a severe sleep deficit, in a new country, and have been doing some silly things like crawling onto the airport luggage thing.  Now, the master plan we made while sane and well-slept in America tells us it is time to get on the bus.
So of course, I putter around.
We change all of our currency except for 78 cents stuck at the bottom of my book bag.  Here is what our money looks like in euros.

This is all the cash we thought to bring.

This had me tripping for a while.  Apparently they have coins for 2 and 1 euros, so this is actually 11.50 Euros.
Then I tried to call my parents.  Which was just dumb.  It was somewhere near 6 am in United States.  I knew this because my body was screaming at me, "Why are you awake at 6 am after staying up all night.  Why is there sunlight?  Were you playing Sims 3 again?  I don't remember playing Sims 3 all night... did the magic monkey go away?"
Needless to say, I did not get through to my family.  Mad Jack pulled me away as I was starting to call his family.  So it's his fault you didn't hear from us, Rodger, not mine.

Now it was time to walk into on-coming traffic.  In Ireland, they drive on the wrong side of the road.  This was something I had meant to look up and prepare for, but even if I had I don't think I would have been in the right mental state to remember.
But when I stepped up to the curb and was looking right to see if anyone was coming and a giant bus blew by from my left, I remembered.  I was pretty much awake at that point.
For the next twelve minutes.
So we found our bus, lugging two suitcases and two book bags and one laptop case with us (this is for the whole year, don't judge me!).  And while Mad Jack was confirming that this red monstrosity was indeed the thing that would take us to Galway I started loading our bags into the underbelly.  Other people had also done this so there was not a lot of room.  I went to the other side of the bus with the idea that Mad Jack would push the suitcase over to that side and I would make sure it stayed inside the bus.  As I was waiting for it to fall the side of the bus started to close down on me.  I flailed and shouted some inarticulate syllable meant to make Mad Jack to get on the bus so we didn't lose all our stuff.  Luckily, Mad Jack's psychic abilities are strong and the bus driver stopped.
He thought that we were travelling with someone else who had brown bags and had kept walking.
So we narrowly escaped losing all our luggage in the most unexpected way possible and got on the bus.  We found out the bus Wi-fi, and I'm pretty sure we sent e-mails to our families... I don't remember.  I basically lost this particular hour of my life.
I was sleeping on the bus, waking up and looking out the window at cows and sheep... of a very distinct variety.  I grew up with cows and sheep and there was no way to confuse these for American livestock.  Maybe it was the intense green of the hills and land around them.  Or the stone walls.  Or the "fuck you, gun less bitch" in their eyes.  But they were not the same animals.
There was a picture I took, but it was weirdly distorted from the window glaze about football(soccer) or bus ghosts, who knows?  So I stole this from somewhere else:

This did not happen.

I love this man.  Sorry Mad Jack.

I can tell you nothing else about this bus ride, except that I was terrified we were going to miss our stop (which was the last stop and therefore un-missable).  I put Rufus on my MP3 and dozed and woke more peacefully than in Dusseldorf.
When we arrived in Galway, I was awake again and beginning to function normally.  I refuse to accept that it was the patchy hour of sleep; it was the music of Rufus Wainwright that healed me.

Galway, I have decided, is the perfect small town.  Everything is in walking distance from the main street, but it is full of life and art.  For example, Eyre Square (which is actually called John Kennedy Square, but nobody calls it that) has life music all the time.  They allow busking and the buskers come out.  Very talented ones, too.  There are cobble-stone streets and all the stores have a very open-to-the-street feel.  So it's like walking through an open market.  There are all these little streets darting out from the main on and leading back into more stores and pubs, like little hidden worlds.  I love that.

Here's a picture Mad Jack took of the Kennedy Head:

We aren't sure what a freeman is or why they re-named the square after an American President (though Kennedy was pretty awesome).  We're going to look into it... if we remember.

Somehow, I managed not to take a single picture of Eyre Square though I was impressed by it.  Mad Jack and I were trying to navigate to the hostel so we could get rid of the giant suitcases we were carting through the city.  Nothing says tourist like backpacks and baggage.
My favourite part was when we stopped at an information centre ( why not favorite and center, because English is a hell of a language).  Mad Jack asked if we could buy a map and the lady looked very sad and told us, "No, I can't sell you a map.  Would you like one for free?"
So far, everyone in Ireland is like that.  Incredibly friendly, a little sarcastic.  It's cool.
We managed to find the Nimmos Hostel.  For some reason, I don't remember any complications... which seems strange.  Whatever.
The hostel is this incredibly old building, a little falling apart.  Really hole in the wall kind of thing.  Literally:

This was it.... like 8 years ago.

Imagine that with out the fence, with the paint peeling, and picture the rest of the street, really busy.  This is on the corner and the building continues on in both directions away from it so it's tiny and easy to miss (I'll try to get a picture of it today, next time Mad Jack and I go down that way).  I have no idea how we found it so easily.
It's up two flights of stairs.

 We get there and there is no one around.  We see the kitchen...no one.

 The freaky hallway leading upstairs with a little desk in it... no one.

The weirdly bare dining room with four cafeteria style tables... no one.

Eventually, we say fuck it and sit down on that really comfortable looking leather couch in the living room. 
About this time, I realise I want to plug in my laptop and charge it.  In my semi-dazed state in the German airport, I played a game for four hours in between naps and used up most of my battery; I was non-functional and I don't remember actually playing the game...
We find out that the converters Mad Jack purchased, which worked fine in Germany, do not work in Ireland.  They have a different grid, so the plug doesn't fit into the socket.  This greatly annoys me, and adds to my building sense of helpless panic.  No plug means no laptop, means no Internet, means no housing or job search, means... I don't know complete melt-down?
At this point, someone peeks in and looks at us funny.  Then asks with an incredibly thick Spanish accent, "Is Jim in?"
My reaction was basically, "who the hell is Jim?" but due to exhaustion and irritation I said nothing.
Mad Jack was more social and willing to speak and struck up a conversation with him.  His name was... Miquel maybe... he told us to call him Mike.  I remember absolutely nothing about him except that he was also studying at NUIG (Jack's school) and he had trouble finding housing.
This did not please the Capt. who was already skived out by the hostel, through no fault of the hostel.  It was just a hostel.  I have found out I dislike the community basis of hostels.
I don't know how long we were there but as soon as we met Jim it didn't matter.  He was one of the most delightful and cheerful men I have ever met.  Even jet-lagged, exhausted, and skived out, I caught myself talking with him in pleasant tones... which is kind of a big deal for me.

Jim had us explain the nuances of American politics so he could understand Obama versus Romney. Apparently, they look the same over here policy-wise. The Mad Jack had to chase him down to pay him and he only had a 50 Euro note, and Jim is like, "broke artist my arse. Waving a 50 pounder at me" (our bill was 30 euro).

Christ Almight, more stairs!

Jim showed the dorm upstairs.
Where we dumped out all the shit we were carrying on our bags.  There was also a laptop, a book, a year's supply of birth control, contacts, allergy medication and change of clothes in mine.





Feeling the relief of having a place to sleep, Mad Jack and I realised we didn't want to sleep anymore.  The sunlight and good company had tricked us into believing that we should be awake and so awake we were.

In the interest of Mad Jack not getting lost the next day on his way to orientation at his school, we went to find the place.  We found the quickest route was actually down one of the biggest tourist attractions in the area:

It's called Canal Walk

So we wandered down Canal Walk feeling extremely excited about being in Ireland and all that.  We saw swans.  That's right.  Swans, mother fucker.

Basically, I chased down the birds until I saw a white one, because I knew my sister wouldn't believe I saw swans unless I took a picture of a "real" one. 

Here's my favourite picture that we got of the swans:

 The walk from hostel to college is basically a straight line, so I felt pretty good that even Mad Jack wouldn't get lost.  We toured around NUIG campus a while (I'll post pictures of that later; it's gonna get it's own post.  Oh, all right fine, you demanding picture fiend...).

But that's all you get...

While walking around the campus, my mood started to drop again.  I don't know if it was just the exhaustion catching up, or the very complicated feeling of being happy for Mad Jack that he was going to grad school while feeling unaccomplished for not getting into my own grad school this past Christmas, or the depressive attitude that had started when we were talking to the others in the hostel about how difficult it was to find housing and jobs in Galway.  Possibly just being overwhelmed by the enormity of the challenge in front of me find stability in a foreign country when I couldn't even use my friggin laptop.  Oh, also, it started raining (which I just need to get used too).
Anyways, I was depressed as we walked back towards the hostel.
Then as we were walking down the canal, I saw something awesome and my mood swung around again, like a bi-polar monkey in a windstorm.
This is what I saw:

Instant bettering of the day.  I felt like it was the universe's way of letting me know we'd be okay (a little foreshadowing, the next day I got the converters, an apartment, and handed out a bunch of resumes.  I'm starting to get calls for interviews now).
I have that set as my backdrop now, so I can remember not to get overwhelmed.  God's promise not to drown us all, hope, and what not.
Then we realised we were kind of starving, so Mad Jack and I went out to eat for the first time in Ireland.  For some reason unknown to me, he let me pick and I stupidly let us into the first place I had seen that looked interesting.  A place called Apache Pizza, which is basically a burger and pizza place in Ireland.  We were right across the street from Monroe's Tavern which is a real Irish pub and... you know what. I'm changing the record.  We ate in Monroe's Tavern first.  It was awesome.  I had Jameson whiskey that made me lose feelings in my toes (actually that may have been the walk) and cod and chips and Mad Jack had the Irish stew.  Then we heard a traditional Irish band (this all actually happened, it was just the second time we went out).

These pictures are just random ones that I took inside a place called Apache Pizza which we never actually ate in.  They are possibly my favourite pictures of Mad Jack, ever.

He's wearing sunglasses because our future is so bright it hurts. 

Tomorrow: porn for women from the hostel window.