Sunday and Monday were slow days. Keith showed me around Limerick, which, I'm sorry to say, I didn't think much of, but found it, however, intriguing. It is a small city of about 70,000 (smaller than Konstanz), but despite it's size, has a big city attitude. There is not much more I can say about the place. I'm glad I've seen it, but wouldn't go out of my way to see it again.
On Tuesday Keith's father took us on a road trip through southern Ireland. This was something I very much looked forward to because I had been wanting to see so more of the Irish landscape. At times Ireland seemed very familiar to me. The landscape was not at all different to something I'd see in New Jersey or Pennsylvania. There were other times, however, when I knew that what I was seeing was something special and unique to Ireland. Describing the sights simply wouldn't do it justice and like they always say, a picture says a thousand words.
On the way back home, Keith’s father’s car began to make a weird sound. It was an annoying, high pitched, ring and it overpowered all conversation and thought for the three hour ride home. What a nice little surprise that was.
Wednesday and Thursday saw the height of my sickness incapacitate me. I stayed in Keith's room, reading, watching Back to the Future, and trying to get some sleep. It was a dismal little two days and that's all I'll say of them.
Friday I was feeling better, but wasn't 100%. It was freezing outside, which is why I couldn't understand why Keith's brother Damien decided to keep his car window open as we drove to the football match. After a while of freezing my tush off and thinking of the crazy Irish Travelers, my recent illness, and Damien's driving itself I proclaimed, “Damien, if you don’t put your window up, I’m going to have to list freezing to death under possible things that might kill me on this trip.” He put his window up with a smile.
The football match was fun enough. Sadly Limerick lost, but they put on a good fight and I can now say I’ve seen a football match in Germany, England, and Ireland!
St. Patrick’s Day, for me, was relatively quiet. Keith’s friends were scattered about and no one seemed to want to go out so Keith and I spent the night at his house, watching a movie and eating grilled cheese. I’m not complaining, the grilled cheese really hit the spot. Keith’s little nephews and niece were staying over as well. They were cute little buggers, but I don’t think Keith’s two year old niece, Quiva, liked me much. She kept looking at me and yelling, “It’s not funny!” I still have no idea what she was talking about, but I bet it was hilarious. On the day we, after telling me a billion times that I wasn’t invited to her party, Quiva kept repeating, “Your not going back to Germany!“, which I found slightly disconcerting because I didn’t know what she had planed for me. I made sure she was kept away form sharp objects and kept my distance from her till I left.
Keith’s father drove us back to Dublin. Incommodious as it might have been, sitting with two other boys in the back seat of a car for three hours, it was cheaper than taking the bus. I was pleasantly surprised at how nice Dublin was. I didn’t see much of it, to be fair, but the section in which we stayed was very artistic and cool.
Well that would be the end of my trip to Ireland. I didn’t have a bad time, but my experience was slightly marred by my illness and that, coupled with the weather conditions, have unfortunately bumped it down to the least favorite country I’ve visited thus far. What’s the next stop on my whirlwind adventure...? Who knows.
