Paris? I Thought This Was Siberia

Like a turkey the day before Thanksgiving, I am still in the process of thawing. A couple weekends ago, our API group, as well as the API groups from Limerick, Cork, and Dublin, traveled to Paris, and even though it was extremely beautiful there, I cannot emphasize enough how absolutely frigid it was. Many times it was terrifically painful to just walk and move around. After a day of touring, we would feel like old women with our achy joints creaking away in our rocking chairs. Well, no rocking chairs, but yes to the achy joints. We made our first blunder pretty immediately upon arriving in Paris when we chose to eat our pain au chocolats while walking to the Eiffel Tower instead of sitting in the cafe. Rookie mistake. Little did we know the excruciating burning pain our poor digits were in for. It was a miracle I took any pictures, and it explains why I took so few overall, (at least in comparison to how many tourists in Paris normally take).

Now that I have being a little whiny girl out of the way, we can move on to bigger and better things. The weekend in Paris was really incredible. Both my eyes and my stomach feasted well. Disclaimer: I’m just going to let you all know now, I will be going into extreme, sometimes even graphic, detail of the foods I ate. If that’s not your cup of tea, or as fat people like myself say, not your platter of fried bacon dipped in honey sprinkled with Lucky Charms and M & Ms, then maybe you shouldn’t press on. For those of you who are daring enough to read on, I ask you to pass no judgments against me. We’re all fatties here. I had what some people that I know would term as a “Fat Lizzy weekend.”

It's amazing that someone can become so fat in such a short period of time.

When we arrived in Paris, we all we dreadfully hungry, and the first thing I wanted to do was get a pain au chocolat, or a chocolate croissant. So we found a bakery, and I got one. Little did I know that this croissant would change my taste buds’ entire outlook on life! Even though it was a mistake to eat the pain au chocolat out in the cold, it was certainly not a mistake to eat it. It was so flaky that pieces were literally breaking off and fluttering into the wind. Fluttering off like some sort of delicious butterfly! What other food can you think of that flutters?!?! And the 2 stripes of chocolate running throughout was just the right amount to create the perfect chocolate-to-pastry ratio. I was in heaven. And then I came back down when I realized my hands might need to be amputated, (last whine, I promise!...but not the last wine! HO HO! See what I did there?)

Our next stop was the Eiffel Tower! The Eiffel Tower is arguably the attraction most associated with Paris, and it is one of the most recognizable architectural marvels in the world, so we wanted to make sure we saw it properly in order to be the diligent tourists we are. When we arrived at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower, though, we found it strange that the lines were so short. When we almost reached the front of the line, we noticed a sign that said that the top was closed due to icy conditions, so you could only get up to the second floor. We decided to wait to go up another day in the hope that it would warm up a bit over the weekend and we would be able to get to the top.

After our mini-failure at the Eiffel Tower it was off to Notre Dame to kick it with Quasimodo. I was told before going to Notre Dame to not expect it to be as grand as would think it would be. And while it was not the biggest or most ornate cathedral I have ever seen, I still found it to be quite beautiful, and it definitely surpassed my previously-lowered expectations. I especially liked the outer doorway carvings, and I kind of remember them coming alive and singing in "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." I should also mention, since I'm technologically-impaired, (it's a real condition!), I couldn't figure out how to turn the flash off on my camera, so I don't have any pictures from inside Notre Dame. I'm sure you can Google it if you're pining to see the inside.

Does anyone ever wonder if Quasimodo is related to Igor from Frankenstein? Maybe that whole hunchback thing is genetic.

"But you can never can run from, nor hide what you've done from the eyes, the very eyes of Notre Dame!"

Behind Notre Dame. Baby got back.

Once we left Notre Dame, things began to go downhill. We were supposed to be back at the hotel by 3 to get our door keys and move our stuff into our rooms. We soon realized that wasn't going to happen. Essentially, we got ridiculously lost to the point of not even knowing what direction to walk. That meant I had to stop in random stores and use my horribly mangled French to attempt to scrape away some idea of where we could possibly head. We all were so tired that after stopping at a hotel to ask directions I completely forgot how to say, "Do you speak English?" in French. It also didn't help that we kept seeing this giant building that we thought we could use as a compass, but, in actuality, it just stood leering over us, mocking our failure. We termed it the Eye of Sauron, but unlike The Lord of the Rings, it was not easy to figure out what direction to walk in.  If you can picture the movie double it's already lengthy time and just have Sam and Frodo walking in circles around the Eye for most of it that would be eerily similar to our afternoon. Miraculously, like the North Star leading the 3 Kings to The King, or the Golden Arches leading the chubbies to the McNuggets, the Eiffel Tower finally appeared on the horizon to bring us back to our hotel. We were about an hour and a half late and we were all extremely beat.

Following our debacle, we were all a little apprehensive to leave the hotel since the group was leaving for the Louvre at 6. I decided to branch out a little because my stomach was threatening to beat up my right kidney if I didn't feed it. Fortuitously, there was a bakery almost right beside our hotel. Now, as many of you know, one of my qualities, (and I feel it to be a very endearing quality), is how gosh-darn awkward I am. Sometimes it is just more prominent than other times. In that bakery, I was at my peak.

I made sure to awkwardly shuffle my way in. Since the bakery was quite small, I was in the perfect awkward location just so I could be in line, but also be in a spot that made the automatic door awkwardly stay open, letting in the icy air. When I was the next person to be served I panicked because I wasn't sure what I wanted and I blanked on my French, so I awkwardly took myself out of line to my initial location as the door keeper-opener. Finding this location entirely too awkward, I left the store only to walk about 30 paces down the street, turn around, and awkwardly enter the store and resume my place in front of the open door. After much debating with what must have been an awkward terror-stricken look on my face, I concluded on an eclair for myself and a sandwich for my roommate. After purchasing them, I attempted to awkwardly put away my money, not squish the goods, and walk out all at the same time. That was when a delectable scent hit my smell receptors. As I turned around, as if in slow motion, they appeared. An entire glorious tray of pain au chocolats materialized from the oven. As I stood awkwardly hesitating on the balls of my feet, once again in my awkward door-open position, unsure of what reflex, ("Buy or Flight"), would win out. It appears that my "Buy" response did since I found my feet carrying me back to the line. The cashier chuckled as I awkwardly stumbled through my french phrases, holding up the line, but I was the ultimate victor as I emerged triumphant with a pain au chocolat clutched in my hand. "Awkward" word count: 11.

All of the stars must have aligned when I purchased that chocolatey pastry delight. How else could I have gotten so lucky as to be present in that bakery right at the unveiling of those heavenly pastries from the oven? Clearly, it was fate. My first bite was divine. The outside was perfectly flaky, but the inside was a completely different story from the norm. The gooey center had collapsed in upon itself due to the heat to create a mixture of warm dough and melted chocolate I almost cried it was so good. The people in the hotel probably thought I was a hot mess as I was walking slower than an escargot (Get it?!? Snail!?!) trying to savor my pain au chocolat with tears in my eyes. When I got back to my room, I quickly alerted Lauren and Rachel to the fact that the bakery right outside our window was selling fresh, warm pain au chocolats. Then, I essentially paid off my friends to go get me 2 more chocolate croissants in an effort to get more gooey-flaky deliciousness, as well as spare me from the socially awkward situation of returning to the location that harbored so much embarrassment. “Awkward” word count: 12. By the time they returned, I was completely done both the éclair and croissant, and ready to feast on 1 more before the Louvre. My plan was to save the last one for when I got back that night. The knowledge that I would return to the hotel and find a pain au chocolat waiting for me was a great feeling.

Off to the Louvre we went through the splendor that is Paris in the nighttime. Seeing everything lit up was a real treat. Upon reaching the Louvre, my friends were quite hungry since the last thing they ate were their morning croissants, so they wanted to stop in the cafeteria. Due to the late hour the cafeteria was closed, so we determined we would go through the museum and then go get a late-night dinner somewhere. We had to narrow down what we wanted to see in the Louvre because it has such a huge collection. Just to demonstrate its size to you, I read a fact that said if you spent 4 seconds at every piece in the museum, it would take you 3 months walking 24 hours a day to see everything. That is astonishing to me!

I'm pretty sure it's impossible to get the whole thing in a picture. That must make the Louvre feel fat.

Not many of my nighttime pictures turned out great, so this is the only one you get. Complaints can be filed with my secretary.

Anyway, I saw the Mona Lisa, I saw Liberty Leading the People, I saw the Venus de Milo, but the one I got most excited for was the Code of Hammurabi. It was like going to Disney World, but instead of going on rides, meeting characters, and generally doing stuff, it was staring at a rock behind a glass box. Pieces like this one were instrumental in getting me interested in archaeology and anthropology. It is beautifully preserved and I couldn't get over how clear the writing was on the rock. I expected there to be a large amount of deterioration due to its age, but the condition it was in was quite remarkable. I know there are certain things that everyone says are necessary to see when visiting the Louvre, but if you find yourself at the museum one day, please try to at least quickly peruse some of the artifacts from places like Mesopotamia, Egypt, and India. Also, I recommend having a mini dance party in the Medieval Louvre, especially if the museum is going to close soon and there is no one around. Good times, I know from experience.

She knows everyone loves her. Like Kate Middleton.

Yeah! That's right! You lead those people, Liberty! You go girl!

Cupid and Psyche: In honor of the recently passed Martin Luther King, Jr. day, obviously.

You think you would be a lot more upset if you didn't have arms. Venus must be coping well.

She dropped it...Butterfingers.

I think on the top row they are doing the Macarena.

The Code of Hammurabi in all its glory.

This text was all over the entire piece.

I fistpump. It's what I do.
Photo courtesy of Cayla.

By the time we got back to the hotel I thought everyone was about to go all Hannibal Lecter on each other if only they could get some chianti and fava beans. A bunch of my friends decided to go to a small sandwich shop down the street that would get them to their food goal quickly, but my friend Monica and I wanted something distinctly French, so we opted for a sit-down meal at a corner bistro. At this point it was around 9:30, but I was surprised at how many people were still there chowing down. Once we sat down, we made the decision that we were going to do this meal right, and go big. We both ordered a glass of wine, because we are classy broads. For a meal, Monica ordered a salad and FRENCH onion soup, whereas I ordered a rack of lamb with bearnaise sauce that came with a salad and green beans, and we shared a basket of bread (DON'T JUDGE ME!). The waiter also offered me FRENCH fries with my meal, or as we call them in America, Freedom fries, but I felt it may be a little childish after ordering a rack of lamb, so instead I think he gave me a double order of green beans. I didn't even have to worry about Monica attempting to eat my lamb, (she's vegan at home, but a vegetarian abroad), which saved me from a lot of anxiety. It was all so good! The lamb was cooked perfectly for me, and I generally don't even like green beans, but I devoured all of these. I smothered bearnaise on everything possible. Basically, Monica and I left a crater of dirty, empty plates in our wake at around 11:30.

She wasn't really that happy, she was just delirious from hunger.

It's just so beautiful. I'm misting up a little.

Gah! I know this must be horrible for you to read through since it is so long, and most likely boring as well. Herego, I have inserted this break to give you some time to get up and stretch your legs, perhaps get a coffee or go for a quick run. I personally don't know what running is, but I looked it up in the dictionary, and it seems like a legitimate pursuit to partake in for a short while. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is to take some time for yourself. Go on, I'll wait here for you.............


Welcome back! Did you have a nice run? You didn't go for a run? I'm sorry if you feel bad about yourself because you didn't complete any sort of exercise in the allotted break time. I bet you'll think carefully about what to do during the next break. 


The following day we all got up early to get see the maximum amount of places. Our first stop was Moulin Rouge to sing the entire movie soundtrack to the people cleaning up from the night before. If it wasn't associated with the film, though, it probably wouldn't have been that exciting, and I doubt I would have gotten up at 6:30 in the morning to go check out a random strip club. The area down around Moulin Rouge is a little odd, and I can't say that I recommend bringing children around there since most of the places are of a risque/NC-17 nature, if you catch my drift. If you don't catch my drift, I'll spell it out for you: There is literally a building called the "Sexodrome."

Behind us cleaners were clearing up bottles/puke/drunken men off the ground from the night before. Magical.
Photo courtesy of Molly.

Our next stop of the day was Sacre-Coeur Basilica. I was not aware before going there that it would take some physical effort and exertion. In this case, my foe was the stairs. I was able to successfully make it up to the top, but not without many envious glances at the tram that rides up next to the stairs. The view and the Basilica were definitely worth the shortness of breath and minimal pit stains. You could see over a ton of Paris, and as I was looking, I kept thinking about how not that much has changed on the skyline during that time. It was a little like being transported back in time with the chimneys puffing away and the Eiffel Tower in the distance. As for Sacre-Coeur, the outside almost seemed mosque-like to me, and it was just as beautiful inside as it was outside.

I'm currently behind a piece of legislation that would turn these stairs into escalators.

Bringing up the back: Out-of-shape Alicia.
Photo courtesy of Cayla.

On my way to becoming a hipster.
Photo courtesy of Monica.

The chimney sweeps were dancing on an adjacent roof with Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke.

The French version of Rocky would be filmed here I'm sure.

I won't dwell too long on the flea market we went to after Sacre-Coeur, but, to sum it up, let's just say it was sketchy as hell. We escaped out of there quickly, even though we almost had one casualty, and made a second attempt at the Eiffel Tower. Since this day was a bit warmer, the top was open, so it was up into the atmosphere (second Mary Poppins reference. boom.) We decided to walk up as far as we could to save some money. I wasn't really focused on the burning in my thighs because I was more intent on high how up we were going. I thought we got a good view from Sacre-Coeur, but the views were magnificent from the Eiffel Tower. You were able to see everything, including the Eye of Sauron. I still cannot fathom why the city of Paris would allow people to build that and put a blemish on their lovely skyview.

Alright! Not in the back this time! I must be getting fitter.
Photo courtesy of Molly.

THERE IT IS! THE EYE OF SAURON! THAT %$#@!*&^ $&%!!!!!!!!

The prongs on my hat keep the pigeons away.

After Eiffeling it up, (now a verb), we had more trouble trying to meet up with some of our friends. This time being lost wasn't so bad, but we ended up meeting up much later than originally planned for. And that, kids, is why having a plan sucks. Much better to just do stuff on the fly. Like my future!


For some reason, I had not gotten a crepe until the second day of our trip. It was a rather spontaneous thing when I finally did get one. My friends went into this bakery in the Latin Quarter to get baguettes with ham baked into them, and on the corner of the street there was a place for crepes and other goodies, like sugared waffles. Before I knew what I was doing, I just strolled up and ordered one. I think my subconscious must have thought this when ordering: "I'll get a Nutella crepe because I don't want to get overly full for dinner and Nutella is one of the greatest things in the world." The Nutella didn't let me down in this crepe either. I think the pictures accurately describe the range of emotions I felt upon eating this delightful treat.

Contentment.

Ecstasy.

Pure, unadulterated joy.

After the crepe, I was already feeling high (on life, not drugs! Crack is whack! Thanks Officer Dan!), so I decided to slip into a pleasant-looking scarf shop nearby. It was called Diwali, and I'm pretty sure it was in the Latin Quarter. I don't want to be too certain about the location, because at the rate I got lost in Paris it's better not to say anything definitively. The shop had some stunning scarves from all around the world coming in many different patterns and materials. They ranged in price from quite cheap (yay!) to uber expensive (avoid at all costs). I must have been looking particularly non-touristy that day, because shortly upon entering the woman working at the store came up to me and started talking in French. The befuddled look on my face must have given me away, (curse you emotions!), because she promptly asked, "English?" She was a really sweet lady. It always makes my day when you meet someone who goes out of their way to be super friendly to you. Sure, it's easy to think, this lady was probably just a really good salesperson, but she seemed honestly interested in having a conversation with me and telling me about the shop. Also, based on the scarves I was looking at she taught me a new way to tie it to highlight the two differently colored sides. If anyone is interested I am now giving lessons for a small fee. I ended up getting the scarf she showed me how to tie, so now I am better equipped to be fancy and pretentious with my spiffy Parisian scarf.


My friends who I have known since elementary school, Ali and Amanda, are studying in Paris for the entire year, so I was lucky enough to meet up with them on our short stay. Things become instantaneously better when you are with people who speak the language of the country and are able to successfully navigate the city without getting lost for hours on end. Plus, it is always wonderful to see old friends, especially friends who are as awesome-possum as those two. We ended up going out to dinner, and I was so stoked because on the menu they had croque-monsieurs, which is one of the first words you learn in French class, and the most commonly defaulted word students go to when they can't think of another word in French. I ended up ordering a croque-madame, which is essentially the same thing, primarily because of the extra calories the fried egg that they put on top would provide me. It was super delicious, and the next time I am in France I'll hunt them down in a style similar to Boba Fett.

I don't even know who this is, she just came up and asked for a picture with me. Sometimes it's tough being a celebrity.
Photo courtesy of Molly.

Once we were all thoroughly full we hopped on the metro to go out. I don't mean to bring this up to tell you about the night, (although it did include a hilarious incident of one of Ali's friends screaming "MACAULAY CULKIN!!!" multiple times at a music video playing on a TV), but to say that a piece of music came on while I was there that changed my life. If you are any sort of decent Disney fan, you should listen to this ode to our childhood. Turn the volume and the bass way up, and be prepared to dance it up, because I doubt you will be able to sing along. Or at least bob your head along, funsucker.

I couldn't even begin to imitate the way people were dancing to this.

The day that we were leaving, Paris was positively magic. We woke up to a thick coating of snow, and it was as if we were all transformed into little kids again. Once we got outside, we were all beaming and skipping along, so happy to get to experience Paris in the snow. It was also wonderful because it was as if we had all of Paris to ourselves. There was essentially no one outdoors, not even at the Eiffel Tower. We went on a long walk to take advantage of the perfection of the situation. I'm sure that many tourists do not get to experience something like we did that day. In my mind, it was probably a once in a lifetime opportunity. Unfortunately, we had to head back at some point, but luckily, we stumbled upon a non-sketchy market on the way back. This market was primarily food with some crafts. I was able to get a mini wheel of cheese to augment a baguette I bought earlier, which I promptly devoured upon reaching the hotel. It was undoubtedly one of my favorite days studying abroad so far.

Thank goodness I didn't have to shovel at all.

Walking in a winter wonderland...especially since I didn't get to on Christmas. Pull it together Pennsylvania weather!

Cheesy Paris picture. I must have been feeling cheesy since I ate a whole wheel of it.

Paris to ourselves.

The gang, minus Molly who had to take the picture. Somebody has to do it.
Photo courtesy of Molly.

"What? You pooped in the refrigerator? And you ate the whole...wheel of cheese? How'd you do that? Heck, I'm not even mad, that's amazing."

Wailing From A Graveyard

Our Resident Director, Finn, let all of us in the program know that it was Solemn Novena, which is this 9-day event that occurs in the Catholic Church. In honor of that, the Galway Cathedral was holding mass multiple times a day, so a couple friends and I decided to go check it out because visitors were welcome.

As a non-Catholic, I found the service to be really interesting, and I was surprised how short it was. Also, they held confessional by just having the people queue up between the rows of the pews, bring out around 25 priest, and just knocking out those sins real fast. I liked the sermon and service overall because I enjoyed the priest. At one point, he told a story that went a little like this:

"So I live and work in Belfast now (Northern Ireland), but I'm from Galway meself. So when I was coming here to do the Novena service I wanted to visit me mum and dad in the cemetery. One of me friends was telling me about how they were just there the other day, and they had a strange encounter."

"She was going for a visit when she heard some wailing. Naturally, she goes to see where the wailing is coming from. She finds that the noise is coming from a woman who is wrapped around, literally hugging a grave, and just mightily crying. She's wailing, 'Why did you have to die?!?! Why did you have to die?!?!' Over and over, she's going on about someone dying and just saying the same exact thing."

"Well, me friend eventually goes over and tries to comfort the lady by asking, 'Why did who have to die?' The lady is inconsolable, though, and just keeps weeping, 'Why did you have to die?!?! Why did you have to die?!?! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE?!?!' The crying just keeps building until it overcomes the woman, and she breaks down even further."

"In an effort to talk to the woman and get her to calm down, me friend more forcefully says, 'Please, just tell me. Why did who have to die?'

"Finally, the woman wrapped around the grave pulls herself together, looks at me friend, and replies, 'Me husband's first wife.'"

Lough It Up

Recently, two weekends ago, I once again packed my bags, (really, it was only a singular bag), to trek to Wicklow. I'm sorry I'm getting a little behind with the weekends and you aren't reading about the most recent excursions, but I'll try to catch up this week. I'll give you a little hint of what you can expect from the post about this past weekend. Hint: It rhymes with Baris, Brance.

Back to Wicklow for now, though. One of the lovely things about being in a country like Ireland is that you can say, "I'm going to the other side of the country for the weekend," and that's completely okay because the other side is only a 2 1/2 hour bus ride away. It actually took us a little more time than that to get to Wicklow since we had to go to Dublin first, and then get on another bus to the small town of Wicklow. More on Dublin later. Also, I got really excited because on the way from Dublin to Wicklow we passed through this little village by the name of Bray, so I was instantly reminded of my sister's friend, Jen Bray! Unfortunately, I tried to take pictures to bring back to her, but none of them turned out very well on account of being on a moving bus in the dark. Sorry Jen!

The town of Wicklow only consists of one street, so you would think it would be pretty simple to find our hostel. Well, you would be wrong. After asking many a lad for directions, we finally found our hostel, Captain Halpin's Bunkhouse. Go ahead, chuckle. The hostel was run by a really sweet couple who just decided to turn their house into a wannabe hotel. We chose to share a room with about 5 Brazilian guys because it was cheaper. We didn't really interact too much other than them asking if it would be okay to drink in the room, so I don't think we'll keep in touch.

The next day we woke up early to make our way to Wicklow Mountains National Park and Glendalough. The latter is the name that has a tie to the title of this post. Glendalough comes from the Irish "Gleann Da Locha," which means "Glen (Gleann) of Two (Da) Lakes (Locha)," and is pronounced like "Glendalock." Herego, the title sounds like "Lock It Up," which is an ode to one of the most solid movies ever created.

"You shut your mouth when you're talking to me!"

Trish, the owner of the hostel, gave us a ride to our butt-booting mountain ascent, I mean...walk. The plan was to drop us off at a trail starting point for the National Park that would loop around so we would eventually end up at Glendalough, and after that, a toasty pub. Before we could be on our way, we first had to take tons of pictures. And with good reason! It is positively magnificent down by the lake. The lake was like a mirror the way it reflected the surrounding mountains. Sometimes it was hard to believe it wasn't a mirror the park just had installed. Wicklow is actually really interesting as well because there have been a lot of movies filmed in the county. Movies like Braveheart, The Count of Monte Cristo, and P.S. I Love You all have scenes in Wicklow. I have a theory that my friends only wanted to go to Wicklow to find the spot that Gerry meets Holly in P.S. I Love You.

I'm totally going to meet my future husband here. Look at all the men I have to choose from!...

-Gasp- A ripple in the lake!?! Is it Nessie!?!

We were all pretty giddy from the fresh air and awesome surroundings.
Photo courtesy of Monica.

                                  Which one is right side up?!?!           It's this one, sillies.

After wearing our camera fingers raw we set out on our trail. I found it hysterical that we were walking on the white trail because then we would technically be white walkers, (anyone who has read Game of Thrones will understand this). If you don't get it, don't worry, it's just nerdy stuff. And also not that funny, I think I was just tired. At first we were working with a nice, paved trail where we could leisurely amble along. Eventually, we came upon a cluster of goats in a rock quarry. We bonded, and I'm sad to say we had to leave them to press on, but I'm going to send them postcards to stay in touch.

Ahhh, I miss paths with no incline.
Photo courtesy of Rachel.

My adoptive Irish family.

I like that boulder. That's a nice boulder...Also, some mini ruins in the foreground.

After that point, I was horrified to see that it was all uphill from there. I had to stifle a sob with this realization, but when a lady with a miniature pinscher passed me I realized I would have to suck it up. If that wee dog could get up the zig-zagging inclined path, so could I! Once we got on our way I realized it definitely wasn't as bad as the other, so I was able to breathe a sigh of relief in between my slightly staggered breathing. The ground was a lot easier to walk on, it was primarily just stones, and we didn't have to fight the wind. For the first part, we were going along a stream with little waterfalls and rapids. I also appreciated it not only for its beauty but also because it covered up my panting. "Do you guys hear that weird noise?" "Oh, yeah, that's definitely the water. -pant- No doubt about it. -pant- The water."

About halfway up at this point. Or I guess halfway down if you're a pessimist.

My mom would have completely freaked if she saw these deer. After all they would be only the 5,893 and 5,894 deer she has ever seen in her life.

On our way we came across a bachelor party, or as they call them in Ireland, a stag party, (bachelorette party=hen party), where they made the soon-to-be groom jump in the freezing cold river/waterfall in his skivvies. Poor guy.  Maybe it was a long night the night before and he needed to sober up. I guess my Pop-Pop was right when the best advice he said he could give me is, "Don't get married." If jumping in an icy river is a requirement, consider me single for life, Pop-Pop.

I thought it may be a little awkward to take a picture of the guy in his underwear, so you'll just have to mentally Photoshop him in.

I don't know what it is about Ireland, but I constantly find myself accidentally climbing mountains. I think it must be Ireland, though, because it can't just be mere chance that it has never happened once in the United States, but it has already happened twice over here in under a one-month timespan. Statistically, the chances are like one in a zillion, and I'm 86% sure those figures are accurate. Luckily, this mountain was a little easier to haul my purely-fat-no-muscle body up because the park people kindly provided these wooden planks with nails in them for the last 3/4 of the path.

That grey path is the one we started up, and then it loops back around. 

We had to migrate to escape the incoming Ice Age.

Since this mountain was easier than the other one, I was able to appreciate the surroundings to a much higher degree. Once we got to the section with the planks, they were running fairly close to the edge, so you were able to get a wonderful view of the gorge we were just in with the lake, (the trail loops back on itself). Also, behind us were more mountains that must have been higher up because they were covered in snow. Ireland just has some of the greatest views I have ever seen in my life. 

"It is suitable only for properly equipped parties competent in navigation." Pshhh, competent in navigation?  I'm able to sniff out a Cinnabon in no time if it's within a 5 mile radius, now that takes some real navigation skills.

Digging the gradual incline over the short bursts of thigh-hell.

Two lakes. Glen of two lakes. It just makes so much sense now!

This picture kind of makes it look like if you slipped off the path and rolled down the hill you would fall off. Pictures are deceptive.

Notice the sandwich in Lauren's hand. Watch for a sequel of "I Want To Lunch With You On A Mountain."

Being on top of a mountain gives you a lot of adrenaline for jumping.
Photo courtesy of Monica.

Glendalough was nice, but just not my cup of tea. Certain things were cool, such as just thinking about how insanely old some of the things were, or the door of the tower that was 6 feet up. Trish said when Glendalough was in use they used a later to get in the tower, and then if invaders ever came they could just climb in and pull the latter in after them. Pretty invasion-savvy those monks.

Monastic City is referring to Glendalough, but I'm pretty positive that it was a place that Indiana Jones visited in one of the first three movies. None of that 4th movie crap.

Approaching the Monastic City with our whips and fedoras.

Monks: "We're doomed if they brought their mini trampolines."

I can’t really put my finger on why I wasn’t a fan. It may have been the fact that it was basically a big graveyard, yet there was no real respect for the dead. People were just traipsing all over graves, letting their dogs run loose, and sitting on tombstones. I just think that people don’t usually have that lack of respect in more current cemeteries, so why would they for Glendalough. Maybe they think since it is so old and a touristy spot that it’s okay to just run amok.  I don’t know, it just didn’t feel right to me. Luckily, after Glendalough we had some time before Trish picked us up, so we warmed up and rested our muscles, (my fat), in a nearby pub.

Windows are kind of skinny, probably not a ton of light getting in. Good thing we don't have a door.

Hmm, it's pretty weird the monks never thought to put a roof on.

The gravestones were a mix of extraordinarily old to relatively new.

That night we all were pretty beat, so we just relaxed in the hostel. We hung out with a young couple that was working in the hostel in exchange for a place to stay. Basically they were just going from place to place whenever they wanted with no real plan in mind. They would just take work where they could, and would just spontaneously move on, even when they had no living situation or work lined up. Straight up ballers. After they left we just watched P.S. I Love You. What a stupid movie. If you disagree, feel free to contact my secretary to set up a meeting to discuss our difference of opinion.

Sunday was pretty miserable weather-wise. We attempted to go on a cliff walk in search of seals, but all we managed to do was get soaked, Monica and Cayla fell on their bums a couple of times, and I ruined my favorite boots, (yes, my adventurin' boots, Kaley Miller!). Being wet is not exactly an optimal condition to be in when you are going to have to ride the bus for hours, but luckily the hostel owners were so nice and let us come back and get changed and dry even though we were supposed to have checked out earlier.

No seals for as far as the eye can see.

Eventually, we made our way to Dublin, and we had a couple hours to kill before our next bus, so we explored around a bit. The day we were there were 2 festivals happening: a haymaking festival (yes!) and a traditional music festival. The music festival was neat because there were a bunch of stages set up around Temple Bar, (note: Temple Bar refers to an area, not an actual pub...though there is a Temple Bar bar in Temple Bar, which I suppose could make things confusing...), so we were able to listen to some great music while shopping and checking things out. API has a weekend planned for Dublin at the end of March, so I won't give you too many details about the city until then in fear of you getting Dublin-ed out. Overall, a really nice weekend in Wicklow and Dublin.

There's always time for Owling (aka another form of Tebowing or Planking where you just try to look like an owl).

This just in: Although there has not been a sighting in years, the elusive triple bunk bed was once more caught on camera by a small group of female tourists in the boonies of Ireland.