Back in Sydney

Well kiddies, Boris arrived back safe and sound on Friday so that means that Irish Tour '08 has officially reached its conclusion.

The last day in Wexford was wonderful (as were all the others throughout the tour). It being Opera Festival, we went to the opera on Tuesday afternoon. We saw The Old Maid and the Thief, a work with which I was not familiar. It's basically a story of an old spinster (Miss Todd) and her maid (Laetitia) who take in a traveller because they could do with a little male company. His name is terribly exotic- Bob. Miss Todd's friend, Miss Pinkerton, drops in to warn them that there is an escaped crim on the lose. Miss Todd and Laetitia thinking that Bob's the crook, harbour him. It's pretty funny with a not very complicated story and the opening duet between Miss Todd and Miss Pinkering was so beautiful. I'm a sucker for good female voices and I was nearly a mess.Opera in the afternoon is sooooooooooooo decadent!

Jane took me to meet her friends Pam and John because they had tickets to a Friends of the Opera party that they couldn't use. Their apartment is on the causeway of what was once a bridge across the river. They're opposite the town and have water on three sides. Stunning view. They had spent some time in Sydney a little while back. I asked where. "Somewhere out in the suburbs", said John. It turned out to be Stanmore, a few hundred metres from where I reside. By the way, Stanmore is only five or six kilometres from the CBD. It is so not in the suburbs!

After a feed (Jane and I cooked risotto for dinner), we had a couple of pints with Neil, checked out another Singing in the Pubs event and then went to the opera party at the Talbot Hotel. It was pretty hard to take: sipping Taittinger, nibbling on canapes and chatting to Simone Osborne who played Laetitia earlier in the day. It was all very wonderful until about ten to one when Jane reminded me that I was catching the 1:30 AM bus to Dublin airport.

Back to her place, grab my bag and the dog escort and after a hug and kiss I was on the bus and so ends a wonderful four days. As Jane said in an email a few days later, it was a bit Cinderella-ish.

I said good-bye to my bag in Dublin and flew back via Frankfurt and Singapore. The trip home was pretty uneventful because I flew with Singapore Airlines; and that leads into the Lessons Learnt section.

While I was sitting on the plan and reflecting about the arseholes at Etihad (Did I tell you that they charged $560 for Boris? Did I tell you about the steward who got aggressively in my face when I was leaving the flight in Abu Dhabi? Did I tell you that I couldn't alter my flight because they were "overbooked"? Never again!), I felt like such a goose because until then I had almost always flown OS with Singapore. Why fuck with a formula that works? They have the best cabin service and the best food. Dickhead!

Lesson number two is buy a bicycle when I get there because it would appear that airlines are now weighing bicycles.

Lesson number three is to add Gortex gloves and overshoes to the equipment list.

Lesson number four is to only have tyres with Presta valves.

So there you have it. I've been back for a week and a half and I'm getting itchy feet already.

Thanks to

• Emma and Dara for putting me up in Cork and showing me a wonderful time.
  
• Brendan for putting me up in Crosshaven and being a thorough gent.
  
• Rosemary, Frank, Kim and Bruno for just being Rosemary, Frank, Kim and Bruno.
  
• Jane for putting me up in Wexford and showing me a wonderful time.
• The publicans, curates and drinkers in the pubs, especially Mr O'Donnell of the Hi-B.
  
• James Joyce for being a genius.
• Wonder dogs Opel, Toaster and Jealous.
• All the people who showed me around, gave me lifts, bought me a drink or were just nice and friendly and grouse to chat with.
  
• And Michael in Quilty. If I ever get to be 87, I want to be just like him.

That's all folks. I have a mountain of photos to sort through. They, along with edited notes will be progressively posted to www.ratbagitinerant.com. Eventually.

Selskar Abbey

The main street of Wexford is more or less pedestrianised. Why can't we have those in Sydney?

St Iberius Church. Iberius is also known as Ibar. My second form class teacher was a Brother Ibar. He was gaoled in 1990 for offences that went back to when he was my class teacher. In case you're wondering, no - I wasn't pretty enough.

I can't remember the name of this church. Pretty speccy.

The wine vault at Greenacres. Hardcore viniporn.

Jane and George at George and Catherine's

The shell house at Cullenstown.

And again. The owner doesn't like people taking pictures of it.

Wind turbines near Duncormick. Farmers get EUR5,000 a year for hosting one.

Saltee Islands from Kilmore Quay.

Westgate, Wexford town.

My favourite picture in the art shows in Wexford. It's called "Deception" and it's by Paul Nugent. It's part of the Collection of the Office of Public Works.

Take note Australian arts administrators - Ireland punches above its weight when it comes to art. Lift your game!

Your correspondent emerges from an alley designed for leprechauns.

Jane with our opera tickets at the theatre.

Wisdom & Virtue Inc

It is with a heavy heart and the deepest regret that due to circumstances beyond my control, I never got to visit the Beamish Brewery. It was pissing down again and I didn't feel like going out. I'm sure it will be there for next time.

Crap weather or not, I took the bus to Crosshaven Thursday and stayed with Brendan for a couple a days. The variability of the weather here is outstanding. It is either really nice or truly appalling with no in-betweens. Thursday was appalling; Friday was spectacular. Saturday was miserable; Sunday was glorious.

Notwithstanding the abundance of blue sky on Friday, I managed to have a few pints with Bruno at Johnny's in the afternoon before having some really good fish and chips with Rosemary, Frank, Kim, Brendan and Bruno. Seeing that Saturday was Bruno's birthday, Brendan and I caught up with him at Johnny's before I headed off to Wexford. Crosshaven is fab - I never want to leave.

After getting one bus back into Cork, I had about a half hour wait for the Wexford bus. I don't care how cheap bus travel is, it sucks. It was pissing down and bloody cold, so in the true spirit of customer service, the bus driver kept us waiting while he faffed about seemingly doing nothing. The bus was packed with the added bonus of a noisy family of bogans spread across the back street. One of the highlights of the trip was when mum walked towards the front of bus.

"Where you going, mum?" screamed her youngest.

"Mind your own fucking business," was the hollered reply. Nice! Fortunately they disembarked in Youghal.

I was going to Wexford for the 2008 Wisdom - Virtue summit, a high profile meeting of people with the coolest names. I met Jane Wisdom in an Indian restaurant in Vientiane nearly six years ago. It was all about dosas and I caught up with her and her then partner over the next few days before they headed north and I went south. I was a tad nervous. What if we didn't like each other? What if we had nothing in common? Of course I had nothing to fear and we're having lots of fun. What else would I have expected from the late, great Marvin's godmother? We had a flashback to one of our conversations.

One of us, it might have been me, said, "You won't believe my surname."

"Mine's better," was the reply. I think it was a draw.

Wexford is really pretty and it's Opera Festival time and there's lots of art in the town, some of it really good. Saturday night we checked out "Singing in the Pubs" which was a lot of fun.

Sunday I was taken to lots of exhibitions, including one in magnificent Johnstown Castle and yesterday we went to some more before going for a walk around Kilmore Quay, a fishing village about 20 km from Wexford town. I'm not sure what she has planned for today, but I'm looking forward to whatever it is.

This is probably the last post (put that bugle down) as I'm flying out of Dublin at 06:40 tomorrow morning. That entails getting the airport bus from Wexford at 01:30. Yikes! After changing aeroplanes in Frankfurt and Singapore, I get back to the unreality of Sydney on Thursday night.

Thanks to everyone who looked after me. I had a ball!

Street view, Cobh-style

Cobh railway station

Cobh

Lusitania memorial in Cobh

Cobh

Que?

Looking across Cork Harbour towards Cobh from Crosshaven

Eugene's bar, Shandon Street, Cork

Bugger Betty's liver. After spending a month here, my liver could do with some assurance.

Velo cop, Cork
(The Hi B is about 20 metres from here. I was on my way there for a heart starter.)

Johnny's Return, Bruno's local, Crosshaven

Crosshaven

A Portrait of the Bullshit Artist as an Old Man. Johnstown Castle, Wexford with Toaster the dog.

Jealous

Toaster, Jealous's mum

The Westgate, Wexford

Cupcakes, Wexford Arts Festival

Pissing to the tune of Ant Music

Johnstown Castle, Wexford
Ms Wisdom with Toaster and Jealous

Jane's housemate Michelle (center) flanked by Catherine and George

Wexford

Back in Cork - again

Before we begin, let's clear up something from the previous post. I've had the odd text and email from people thinking that it's been a shit. Well, actually no it hasn't. Sure, the weather's been swinging between really nice and really crap, and the broken pump episode in the middle of nowhere was a tad disheartening, but it has been fun. Really.

The point of the post was that solo travel has its pros and cons and for the most part it works. I just happened to be going through that bit where having someone around would have been nice. That's all. Does that mean I'm done with solo travel? Dunno, but next time, I'll probably bugger off by myself again.

I've met lots of interesting people; had lots of lovely pints and some brilliant food in the pubs and seen some truly speccy scenery. I've been rained on a bit, that's all. It's been a worthwhile adventure. Enough of that and onto what's been happening since the last post.

After mooching around Galway for a couple of days, Boris and I took off on Friday for Sixmilebridge, about 13 kms north of Limerick where there's a hostel. It was about an 80 km ride. The main highway south from Galway was bit busy and not exactly pleasant. It wasn't raining, but it kept threatening to.

I had a late breakfast in Gort, nearly 40 km from Galway and had the full Irish. For the uninitiated, the full Irish consists of fried egg, black pudding, white pudding, a couple of snags, tomato, a hash brown and lots of bacon. If Zorba had the "full catastrophe", the full Irish should be called the full heart attack. At €7.50 it's excellent value and negates the need for lunch.

A bit south of Gort, we left the main highway and picked up a back route that was a bit of shortcut even though it had a long steady climb followed by a long descent. Copped the odd shower, but the views back over the Burren were fabo.

Sixmilebridge is a pleasant little village with some nice pubs, one with a very welcoming coal fire and friendly locals. The hostel is called Jamaica Inn. I asked the manager why anyone would name a hostel after a Hitchcock movie and he said, "No, it was named after the place". I said that (it being raining and cold) I could see the resemblance. He said that his wife is from Jamaica. So there.

I had the kitchen to myself, so I went into town and grabbed some veggies for a soup and washed it down with two cans of Cork's finest and had an early night.

The weather forecast for Sunday looked scary with a monster low developing off the north west coast so I figured I'd better try and get to Cork in one go on Saturday, about 113 km. It rained all the way to Limerick so I went to the station to check out the trains. I rocked up to the information counter and asked if I could take Boris on the train to Cork. "No problem", was the reply.

Getting from Limerick to Cork involves changing trains at Limerick Junction which is a good 20-odd kms east of Limerick. I asked the guard what to do with the bike and he told me that there are bike hooks in the front carriage. Cool.

Limerick Junction is in the middle of nowhere with one long island platform. The Cork train turned out to be a big train from Dublin. I had no idea where to put Boris, so I got him and the panniers on and went looking for somewhere to park him. I was down the other end of the carriage when I heard a terse, strong female voice say, "Whose bicycle is this?" It was the conductor and she was not pleased. I told her that I was looking for bike hooks or whatever and she said, "What makes you think you can bring a bicycle on a passenger train?" It was about to get ugly. I was cold and wet and in no mood to be pissed about when I had asked about Boris at Limerick. I was just about to dig my heels in when she said, "I'm sorry. I'm being cranky. You weren't to know and they wouldn't know at Limerick because they just deal with commuter trains. I'll find a place for your bike in the next carriage." She went and found a place where there's a facility for strapping in prams and wheelchairs; I wheeled Boris through the carriage and she brought the panniers. She apologised again and offered to make it up with a cuppa. We departed friends. In fact we chatted outside the station in Cork for a bit.

By the way, she saw me writing in my journal on the train. "Are you writing about me?" she asked. I told her that I record everything - fairly.

Cork's cool. I've been crashing with my mates Dara and Elia. Since being back here, I've caught the tail end of the film festival and generally mooched around town. On of the high points has been an audience with Brian O'Donnell, the proprietor of the legendary Hi B bar.

Boris, by the way is on his way back to Oz by post, so I'll bussing it from here on.

I'm generally mooching around Cork. Yesterday I checked out Cobh and tomorrow after visiting the Beamish brewery, I'll head down to Crosshaven for a couple of days and on Saturday drop in on my friend Jane in Wexford on the way to Dublin. From there, I'll head to Belfast and may be even catch the bus to Derry and Giant's Causeway. We'll see.

Meanwhile, here's piccies.

In case the lawn ever needs doing at the end of the pier in Galway.

Boats, Galway docks

If Furry Freak Brothers fans get the munchies, they know where to go in Galway.

Let's hope they don't get mad.

Eglington Canal, Galway

Murphy's Bar, my preferred Galwegian watering hole.

They lets fools post pictures of themselves at the museum.

The full Irish, Gort Co Galway.

Bicycles as art. Tulla Co Clare

Sixmilebridge Co Clare

Boris gets a seat on the train.

Inside the Hi B, the thinking Corkonians watering hole.

Hi B landlord Brian with Emma

Streets are narrow in Cork. Bus and van stand-off, Blackrock Co Cork