Suddenly Budapest

It feels as though lots of time and many places have passed since I last posted. This sense may be heightened by the fact that I've just flown right across the continent from Dublin to Budapest (I flew with the very tantalisingly named Irish airline, Aerlingus...). I've just spent the whole day travelling and arrived in Budapest this evening, so I haven't actually seen any of the city yet. So I'll talk about what I've been up to between Inverness (where I last left you) and now...

I embarked on a very scenic train journey across Scotland from Inverness to the Isle of Skye. I based myself in the tiny coastal town of Kyleakin and explored the island by bus from there. It was on this island (not to mention during the journeys to and from the island) that I experienced the beautiful highland wilderness that Scotland is renowned for: hills reflected in astounding mirror-images in the ever-so-still lochs below; dramatic rocky coastlines and rock formations; and a pervasive sense of remoteness. Certainly very dramatic scenery, but somehow also slightly depressing. This may possibly have had something to do with the constant greyness overhead. To be fair though, the sun did (rather miraculously) break through the clouds a couple of times and cheer the landscape (and me) up a little.

After a couple of days and a couple of hikes in Skye, I caught a bus down to Erin's hood - Glasgow - and spent a lovely and rather luxurious couple of nights in her plush abode. Staying outside of the city centre meant that I was fortunate enough to encounter some regular Glaswegian Joes, including:
1. a girl on a bus who so uncannily resembled Vicky what's-her-name from Little Britain (in both appearance and behaviour, but slightly more aggressive and obnoxious, if you can believe it) that Erin and I weren't sure whether to laugh or cry. We did move to the front of the bus to get as far away from her as possible, though.
2. chatty taxi driver with an indecipherably thick Glaswegian accent. I was glad it was Erin who was sitting in the front seat, obligated to chit chat and answer his questions because I could barely understand a word. Round of applause to Erin who very impressively managed an entire conversation with the man!

I farewelled sweet Erin after a couple of days and spent my last night in Glasgow in The Worst Hostel Ever before getting up early the next morning to catch a flight to Belfast. My two days there were less eventful than I'd hoped, especially when I decided to do a political tour to learn more about the Catholic/Protestant conflict and the tour guide failed to turn up. I walked along the alleged former "war-zone" myself, saw the murals and memorials dedicated to the so-called freedom fighters (strange) and became increasingly annoyed at the guide for not having shown up. Never mind. It was off to the Antrim Coast with me to chill out for a few days.

I stayed in tiny Bushmills (the entire town consisted of one road and had not a single public internet terminal anywhere), famous for its Irish Whiskey distillery - the oldest licensed distillery in the world. I took a tour of the (smelly) distillery on my first day in town and was one of four people to volunteer for a whiskey tasting session afterwards. I was fed four shots of Bushmills Irish Whiskey, one shot of scotch and one shot of bourbon. In the space of ten minutes. Needless to say, I was a happy lass. Especially after I was awarded a shiny gold tube containing a certificate which merited me as being an "official Irish Whiskey taster"! That's going on the CV. After the tasting session I staggered to the nearest fish 'n' chip shop (chipper!) and got some greasy, vinegar-soaked chips into my empty belly to suck up all that alcohol.

The next day I visited the sights along the coast: Giant's Causeway - hexagonal basalt columns which occurred naturally some however many years ago (a looooooooooong time ago *nods wisely and knowingly*), which are really quite amazing (obviously I'm in something of a lazy mood at the moment - I have been travelling all day - so rather than going into intricate description, I'm going to let those of you who are interested to just look it up online); Carrick-a-rede - a little town sitting just off a dramatic cliff coast. The main attraction here is the rickety bridge that connects a small island off the coast to the mainland. 'twas fun to cross - ocean roaring beneath, rain pouring from above, bridge a-wob-wob-wobbling. I felt like Indiana Jones.

Where did I move onto next...?...?.... Ah, yes - Dublin, where I hooked up with Rachel Bowen. I could hardly believe it was she in the flesh! I had to spend a few minutes pinching and poking her just to make sure (it'd been a while since we'd seen each other).... So nice to catch up with friends. Over a pint of Guinness. I think I quite like the stuff. I'm sure I like it more than regular beer.

The most exciting thing that Rae and I did in Dublin: we both mounted a reclining statue of Oscar Wilde perched on a slanted rock. Not simultaneously (although we thought about it). How could something so silly be so much fun?

Rae also happened to be staying at the same hostel as Andy and Pam (Andy's mum), who were also in town! So we all hung out and drank pints together (on Pam! Thanks again Pam! Thanks!)! Dublin was indeed the city of friendly encounters, as I also very randomly happened to run into Edo and Stefka (friends from Berlin, for those who don't know)!! Very random! I was standing on a street corner puzzling over a map when they suddenly appeared before me! So we all went out for pints too!! Actually, I believe Corona was the beer of the day. I'm getting a bit excited with the novelty of pints of Guinness. In Ireland. Yes, Dublin. Random. A whole bunch of friends in a random city. Again, random. But so delightful!

From Dublin, Rae and I bussed it across the country to Galway. This is where we heard about the very tragic and dramatic death of Steve Irwin. Rae happened to catch it on the TV in the hostel common room. It also made front page news (in tabloid newspapers) the following morning. I wont describe what mine and Rachel's initial reaction to the news was, as some may find it offensive. Suffice to say it was a good thing that we had each other there to lean on...

On our second day in Galway we caught a ferry across to the Aran Islands (both of us managing not to puke. The sea was rough. Congratulations us!), where we met all manner of delightful animals!
1. a very handsome cock whose bright colours were co-ordinated with those of the house he was sitting in front of.
2. the fattest slug in the world who, incidentally, owes his life to Rae and I, as we suspect he was going to be the cock's lunch before we distracted the bird, allowing the slug to make a slithery escape.
3. a wonderful brown horse (or was it a pony?) with nettles in his fringe. We shared our apples with him and ended up with horse-slobber all over our hands. Mmmm...horse slobber...
4. an amusing black dog who was looking very pleased with himself indeed, strutting up and down the seafront as though he had somewhere very important to go. He came over for a good scratch behind the ears and then tried to follow us into the B&B, where we shared a pot of tea and had a not so nice scone (microwaved) and piece of carrot cake (have I missed any animals, Rae? There was the cat and the lobsters, but we didn't actually meet them, as such...). Oh! The cow that we thought was dead because a whole bunch of crows were standing all over it pecking at it! It wasn't dead - it was just happy to have the birds eating its fleas.

The actual island we were on was the largest of the three - Inishmore (people speak Irish Gaelic here! We heard them!). The island is grey and bleak and feels very, very remote. So many gutted, abandoned, falling-down houses. Lots of low, grey, slate walls dividing property. Lots of grey slate in general. It may very well have been depressing were it not for all the animals and each other. We caught the ferry back at the end of the day and once again, succeeded in not puking. We parted ways the following morning, which was sad, as it was fun travelling together for that period, brief as it was.

Now I find myself in Budapest. I was met at the airport by a man holding a sign with my name on it, who drove me to my hostel. I couldn't speak to this man because we didn't share a common language. The driver's seat in the car he drove was on the left-hand side. He drove on the right-hand side of the road. I couldn't understand any of the signs on the street, nor the voices on the radio. And all this was strangely comforting. Things felt right again somehow.

I must say, I am ultimately glad to have left the UK and Ireland. It's nice to be in a place where the sun shines for more than a few minutes at a time. And I think Brits are a bit strange...even you, Dan, even you...;-)