Hello and thanks for visiting Wanderlust Ireland! We are James and Brice: Canadian wanderers of the Emerald Isle (and a bit of Scotland). We hope you enjoyed our frequent updates from our trip including photos and travel suggestions, but most importantly……the treasure we buried! That’s right. Treasure. So if you are travelling Ireland now (or sometime in the future) and follow our blog, you’ll be given directions to the treasure we left all across Eire. When you find it, take a picture and send it to us so that we can cross that particular item off the list and tell tales of your treasure hunting prowess for generations to come. The treasure is, of course, yours to keep. Slainte!
April 15, 2010 at 12:16 am (The Trip)
Tags: adventure, backpacking, brice, buried treasure, craic, geo-cache, ireland, irish, irish song lyrics, james, scotland, travel blog, travel ideas, treasure, treasure hunt, wanderlust
June 30, 2010 at 8:02 am (The Trip)
Well, that’s all folks! The trip is over. Thanks for following the blog. We hope future travellers will be able to use this as a resource for trips to Ireland and uncover some of the treasure we left behind. Thanks for the comments and the pints!
June 28, 2010 at 6:15 am (The Trip)
Ah Edinburgh. When you’re walking around Edinburgh you know at every moment that you are not in any other city in the world. Edinburgh is a city with a distinct personality resonating out of the stonework and the monuments for Scottish literary heroes.
It also has a sweet castle.
We only went out once, but had a great time at Hive. They have themed Wednesday night parties every few weeks with cheap watered down drinks, and we caught Japanese themed Bansai! But we arrived too late to receive free Tamagochis. The Hive had two dance floors—one with chart, one with cheese. We stayed in the cheesy 90s room. Duh.
The most popular thing to do in Edinburgh is to wander the Royal Mile and frown at fellow tourists searching for their Scottish heritage (just as you are doing).
The castle is a pricey must.
Even better than the castle is a walk / hike to the top of Arthur’s Seat for a beautiful view of the city.
While Brice was off seeing the above sights, James met up with Scott (from the same programme at UBC), who is now doing his Ph.D. at St. Andrew’s. He came into Edinburgh for a pint (or 2 or 3 or…okay, fine…4 pints) of Guinness.
June 28, 2010 at 4:55 am (The Trip)
Inverness does not have a good chipper. This was a serious blow to Brice’s Scotland in our ongoing “whose ancestors had the better country?” battle. BUT Inverness is on the River Ness and has cruise tours onto the infamous home of the Loch Ness Monster. So that’s pretty cool.
Our hostel, Inverness Student Hotel, was excellent because of the staff and the other travellers. Amanda (yet another Aussie) joined us on our Nessie hunting adventure, but we were all disappointed at the lack of options available. Renting bikes is almost as expensive as the cruise out of Inverness, so if you biked to the Loch you’d still have to find a cruise offered there for even more money. Finding your own row-boat, kayak, canoe, or whaling ship is also expensive or impossible. In the end, we settled on the cruise. But then saw the types of boats we wanted to rent!
Maybe renting a car and talking to locals would have worked, but we were short on time and took what we could get.
But just being on Loch Ness was amazing. We wanted to deliver a message to Nessie from Canada’s Ogopogo, Nessie’s long-distance boyfriend, but we couldn’t find her. James even tried drinking Nessie Ale on the boat to encourage her to appear.
The next day we had better luck. We walked along the River Ness, and there she was! Kind of…
Back at the hostel, we delighted Stef by asking her take a photo of us in the backyard with the interesting arrangement of rocks there. We had to climb down an embankment using a gardening hose as a rope to pose for this perfect picture with Pierre-Lou (he looks like Bret from Flight of the Conchords!), who joined us with the best choice of concealment.
The hostel is going to put this photo up on the wall to encourage others to follow our example.
June 28, 2010 at 4:04 am (The Trip)
“Could you crush a man with throw?”
“I could crush you. Like a worm.”
“Well then do it.”
“I will not.”
We often recite such lines to each other from one of the best movies of all time: Braveheart. The Scots love it for being solely responsible for the boost in Scottish tourism over the last 15 years, but they hate it for its historical inaccuracies. Apparently, Mel Gibson wasn’t actually alive back in the 13th century! And a bunch of other things we only half listened to.
Because of our love of this movie, we had to make a pilgrimage to Stirling to see the William Wallace Memorial. It’s quite the monument. We weren’t sure if we were headed in the right direction, but locals confirmed that it was “that big tower-thing on the hill”. We crossed the “wee bridge” in the directions given to us for our “wee walk” and walked a forest trail up to the monument. After paying an entrance fee…of course.
On the side of the monument is a huge statue of William known as the “Wee Wallace” to indicate the size of the real man (estimates run at 6’6”). The Scots never use the word “wee” to actually mean small. If it’s a “wee walk”, it’s a long walk that’s still easily doable. It’s used in a self-deprecating way very similar to the half-jested modesty of the Irish.
Outside the monument, an actor / historian wearing Wallace’s crest gives a rallying speech to encourage we loyal Scots to fight the English (or at least to cheer against their World Cup team…which lost yesterday. The Scots must be happy).
We, through a series of complicated rouses and Mission Impossible-like stunts, stole the sword and tried to make a break across the battlefield of Stirling.
James ran all the way to Bannockburn—getting lost in the actual town before finding the battlefield—to hide behind the statue of Robert the Bruce.
So, you’re probably all wondering: Did Brice escape with the sword? Did he kill Nessie with it? Is there now a replica hanging at the William Wallace monument while the real sword is sailing back to Canada on the ship of the Dread Pirate Roberts?
We’ll never tell.
Unless you buy us a pint.
This is a song James wrote when we were in Doolin. Turns out it was not true. We’ve since been in Scotland and are now in Amsterdam, coming home soon.
In Ireland We’ll Stay
We’ve been drinking, we’ve been dancing
We’ve done every nature hike
We’ve been feckin’ locked in Cork
And they think we’re locals like
We’ve seen Fungi out in Dingle
And we’ve kissed the Blarney Stone
We know we’re only tourists
C D G
But this island feels like home
We’re not going home (No!)
We love our pints of beer
It’s welcome! Cheers!
And kiss my ass you’ll hear
We’re not going to leave
In Ireland we’ll stay
It’s failte (fawl-cha)! Slainte (slawn-cha)!
C D G
And pog ma thoin (pok ma hown) you’ll hear us say
We hate When Irish Eyes are Smiling
And we’re sick of Danny Boy
We need music sung in Irish
To fill our hearts with joy
We love our pints of Guinness
Smithwicks, Bulmer’s, Murphy’s so
When we suggest another pint
The answer you will know
We just looked in our passports
There’s an expiration date
Does anyone know the penalty
If we go home too late?
Ah screw it (yeah!)
We’re never leaving here
And if customs comes a-calling
We’ll just blame it all on beer…’cause
<chorus repeat as desired>
C D G
‘Cause in Ireland we’ll stay
June 22, 2010 at 4:53 am (The Trip)
My main requirement for this trip was to be in Dublin for June 16th: the day described in James Joyce’s Ulysses. Joyce chose the 16th for his novel because it was the day he had his first date with Nora Barnacle. They’d met on June 10th and she stood him up for a date on the 14th. She did meet him two days later and now June 16th is immortalised in Dublin by literary geeks like me.
My Bloomsday began at Sandycove with a plunge in the Forty Foot pool near the tower. Tom, an Australian from the hostel, heard of my plan the night before and joined me for the early morning expedition on the DART. We wanted to skinny dip, as people used to do and as Lonely Planet says men still do before 9 a.m., but when we reached the rocky bathing area we were greeted with “Togs Must Be Worn” signs and a young girl filming her parents swimming in the icy cold water. We kept our shorts on and, avoiding the jellyfish, earned a place in the ranks of the Forty Foot Gentlemen.
We didn’t stay in the water for long. Tom had to go back to Dublin to go to work and I wanted to go to the top of the Martello tower (which is also a Joyce museum) and explore the town.
Back in Dublin, I went to St. Stephen’s Green and spent the first half of the afternoon reading Dubliners in the sunshine.
At 3 o’clock I went on a Bloomsday walking tour led by Clarissa from the James Joyce Centre. She pointed out landmarks associated with Joyce’s works and finished the tour on O’Connell Street. I met up with Brice and we went to get tattoos. We’d selected a studio and artist a few days earlier, but I didn’t want to get the tattoo until Bloomsday. I have no particular association with any days in the middle of June, so I decided to make the day most important to Joyce a day forever important to me as well.
This was my first time getting a tattoo and it does hurt, but not nearly as much as I expected—the teeth cleaning I received last January was far more severe. It also helped that I got the tattoo on my right ankle, just above that bone that hurts like hell when hit with a hockey puck. I felt the needle enter the skin and then it felt like I was being cut with a small knife. Over and over and over. I heard that getting a tattoo can also feel like being burned, but I only felt heat once during the process. I’ve been dressing the tattoo frequently as I travel and have had to wrap it up to avoid all the germs present in hostels.
I’m glad I got it. I’m glad I got it with Brice. I’m glad I got it on Bloomsday!
We saved Dublin for the end of the Ireland portion of our trip so James could be there for Bloomsday and so that we could fly directly from there to Edinburgh and avoid going near horridly dull Glasgow. We stayed at Isaacs Hostel (located close to the bus station and Connoly DART station with cheap beds and a fun lounge area overrun with World Cup fans from around the world) and used Dublin as a base for daytrips into the surrounding area.
The DART (Dublin Area Rapid Transit) is a fantastic way to cheaply visit the coastal villages 30 minutes out of Ireland’s biggest tourist magnet. James met Heather (from Summerland B.C.!) and went on a coastal walk with her around Howth.
To find the Connoly DART Station on the north side of the Liffey, by the way, one must carefully follow the vaulted railway lines and circle the station completely before the entrance will appear. It has some sort of magic spell over it which confused other travellers we met as well. The less than 2.50 euros spent each way are so worth it, especially because of these seals begging for fish in the harbour.
Another good choice is Bray. It’s in county Wicklow, so James went there just to earn the Wicklow sticker for Erin (the guitar). Follow the beach and breathtaking cliffside walk over smuggling (now train) tunnels towards Greystones.
Malahide also has a scenic beach and its castle is set in a forested park. Inside, there are lots of portraits and history about the family…not worth the admission.
Pubs, Late Night Bars, and Clubs
We didn’t actually hit as many pubs as you’d probably think we would have. Dublin is expensive, and the price of pints in the Temple Bar area goes up as the night progresses. We did a lot of Guinness drinking around the rest of the country, and although we did go out in Dublin we didn’t try to research the definite guide to drinking there. In fact, I’m not sure how one would do that. There are far too many pubs and only so much alcohol our livers can handle.
Porterhouse. We didn’t actually return to James’ favourite pub from his last trip. Try the oyster stout.
Fitzsimmons, Temple Bar. Multi-levelled with something for everyone. A good raised area in the dance section downstairs for dance exhibitionists like James.
The Auld Dubliner, Temple Bar. Excellent DJ rolling out sing-along after sing-along. 60s-present. Closed out with traditional songs.
The Hop House, Parnell Street. Korean bar where James watched South Korea’s World Cup games. They had free makali and haemul pajeon!
Woolshed, Parnell. Crowded (the biggest audience we’ve ever had for) karaoke on Thursdays. Our tattoo artist Rob was there!
Dragon. We didn’t go, but a Brazilian woman at the Auld Dubliner assured James, whom she thought was gay, that this is the place to be for gays on Sunday. And the George too.
Krystal. Again, we didn’t go, but it’s the club of choice on Saturday nights.
June 19, 2010 at 3:40 pm (Treasure Ireland)
We were so tempted to keep her and suffer the fees and hassles of Ryanair to get her to Scotland…but no. We bought a guitar in Cork over a month ago and we knew we’d leave it in Dublin.
We are not going to riddle this one at all. Someone (preferably a musician) please rescue Erin! We left her in the care of the reception at St. Michan’s Church. James’ highlight of Dublin (five years ago) was going into the crypt below the church to “shake hands” with the mummified remains of an 800 year-old crusader. It was once tradition to rub the finger of such a corpse for good luck, and the tour guide still allows people to do so.
Both of us shook his hand this time and we decided it was the right place to leave our beloved guitar. Putting it on the back of the James Joyce statue near “the Stiffy on the Liffey” intersection of O’Connell Street was a close second…
Just go to St. Michan’s Church and ask at the desk for the guitar. We only ask that Erin stay in Ireland. Add stickers from the counties you visit and sign the back with the marker we left in the case. When you are about to leave, please give her to someone else in need of a musical travelling companion. Her voice may not be strong, but it’s beautiful!
June 19, 2010 at 3:23 pm (Treasure Ireland)
We wanted to hide this one in Belfast at the Crown, but the pub lacked good hiding places…and it had a lot of CCTV cameras. So, it’s at Isaac’s Hostel in Dublin.
A room of silence,
Near that of sport,
In deadened warmth
The deck is port.