Je bekijkt de reis...
Reisverslag Finding the pot of gold
9 januari 2015
Finding the pot of gold
When I look out of the window, I gaze upon the virgin green fields. Filled with rainbows, dancing horses and a fresh breeze in my face. Far away, behind the hills of the county, I can make out the subtle, yet clean end of one of the rainbows. How I wonder, how I wonder. Will there be a pot of gold, made together by a leprechaun, waiting for me there?
Writing down this word: 'leprechaun', shows me that I wrote the wrong thing on my profile, but this does not matter. I am in the green land of jolly folks, mates, Guinness and whisky!
I put my bag in the overhead box. I strap myself in and look outside through the tiny window and even though I much desire not, I know that these two seats will be filled soon.
It is at this point that I hear a girl's voice. I hear a vague resemblance of a language I speak. The voice stops and another girl's voice can be heard. I try my best to listen and hear what they are saying. With a sigh I accept that this silly language must be Irish, otherwise I should have been able to understand. Suddenly, I hear just behind me, a girl speaking in Dutch! That shouldn't be weird, but the reply given by the other girl was in that silly language again.
An image starts to form inside my head while listening to these voices. I think of a person. Her face right in front of me and I can finally see the connection between the girls here and of that girl back home.
Yes, I'm going to be stuck with these silly, loud-mouthed, pauper girls. The girls, from Fryslân.
The doors open and I'm amazed by what I see. I'm not struck by thunder and lightning. I'm not feeling the horizontal rain hurting my eyes. What I feel is this rare feeling for the people in Ireland; the sun.
What a beautiful day to arrive! I wasn't greeted by what I expected; bloody weather and bloody people. Instead, I was greeted by lovely weather and bloody people.
It shouldn't come as a surprise that the people of Ireland are jerks at first sight. However, once you start a conversation, and only having to ask what they're saying three or four times, they seem quite... reasonable. So far, I found that people are very to themselves and speak in reasonable English. The older folks seem to be lovely, be it that you can't understand a single word they're saying because they might not even be speaking English or Irish at all! They have a dying language here called: Gaeilge. It's quite difficult and because of how little people use it, I will only bother to learn swears and how to order a 'pint'.
Oh yes, it's 'Gaeilge', not to be confused with 'gaelic', which is an interesting sport. Gaeilge is basically a magical language back from when the leprechauns were roaming the green fields. It's all very confusing.
Everything here is so confusing. A beer is a pint. The steering wheel is on the wrong side and because of this, the Irish probably decided to drive on the wrong side of the road. I'm everyone's 'mate' and so is everyone else. It's okay to swallow half of the word while having a chat because I think everyone's kind of guessing anyway what their conversational partner is saying. Irish people like ham, it's almost the only meat for bread they sell. Other than that, the Irish people seem reasonable.
I have yet to explore Dublin more, but I'm afraid all the pots of gold have been found and all the leprechauns have fled to the hills. I will notify you as soon as I can when I lay my eyes upon one of them.
You haven't read a single true adventure of mine yet so far, so why bother keeping this 'adventure log'? Why am I trying to be interesting? Or do I become interesting for writing these logs? I wonder the same thing.
My reasoning behind why I started this became clear after I logged on to Facebook. "Where are you?", "how was the first day?", "what is it like?", "where's my money, asshole?"... Scrap the last one.
Whereas the irony lies with me,
a person who talks with social glee,
telling tales accurate and precise,
but doesn't like to say the same thing twice.
9 januari 2015 19:49 | Door: Frans geen Kans
Hoe was je eerste dag?
9 januari 2015 20:03 | Door: Sabrina
If you ever visit Cork, visit the city centre, go to the Brown Thomas store, ask the doorman if his name is Sean, if his name is Sean, give him a hug, ask him out for a pint of Beamish, and he will tell you everything you want to know about the city and how to speak geailge in return.
10 januari 2015 11:47 | Door: Jurri Hartvig
I will add it as a sidequest to find Sean, sabrina ;)
@Frans: komt binnenkort
11 januari 2015 14:55 | Door: Poseimon
klinkt supercool en zo :)
heel veel succes!!!
11 januari 2015 18:05 | Door: Frans geen Kans
wanneer begin je?
12 januari 2015 10:06 | Door: Jurri Hartvig
Vandaag begin ik!
12 januari 2015 15:22 | Door: Frans geen Kans