Dearest readers,
Liz is back in action and we're here to update you from Ireland! We're currently sitting in the kitchen watching a show about travelers (gypsies) on TV and we just made quesadillas for a midnight snack. This was a big deal, since no one we're staying with was really sure what a quesadilla was. And in the grocery store today when I went to get some salsa, I was met with a very easy decision since there were a whopping two choices: mild and hot.
Anyway, we've had a good few days. On Friday, we headed back out to the Adare manor to have a relaxing day of laying in the grass. Unfortunately, we struggled to find ANY patch of grass on the miles of grounds that wasn't part of the golf course. And also unfortunately, neither Liz nor I are too familiar with the game of golf, and our leisurely walk turned into a run with strange men in the distance yelling "FORE!" at us. The manicured lawns quickly became a death trap, and I'm probably just saying that because I recently finished the Hunger Games series and I felt like I was in an arena with my little backpack on and the Victor's Village off in the distance. Some good did come of being lost, although at the cost of Americans' reputation abroad. An Irish man driving around in a golf cart stopped after passing us like three times.
"Are you gys American?"
"...Yeah."
"Ah. You're lost. Americans always get lost."
Honestly, we just wanted a place to day drink in peace, we weren't really lost. But you don't tell that to the person who works at the manor you're trespassing on. And he was so nice he let me drive the golf cart.
We finally found a weeping willow along the service road that provided the necessary shade, privacy, and scenery. We sat against the tree for the next fews hours talking and laughing and sitting. And being thankful that our biggest responsibility was...well...I don't really know. Haha.
***
On Saturday, Liz, Niamh, Elaine and I packed up the mini cooper and drove to Lisdoonvarna for their famous Matchmaking Festival. Back in the 1970s, waves of women moved to Dublin to work in new office jobs, while men stayed on farms across the country. The unequal proportion of genders in the city (too many women) and in the fields (too many men) led to the solution of matchmaking festivals, where both parties could finally gather to find their future husband or wife. The tradition has evolved in some ways, with younger people now going more for the fun than the future (or so they say). In other ways, it remains the same, because all the boys we met were farmers. I made the mistake of asking a few of them if they were students, and they looked at me like I was some kind of alien.
So here we were in the Matchmaking Bar with a group of Irish gentlemen that I sat down with because i was hungover I had grown weary of wandering around like some slab of matchmaker meat. Liz still felt a little under the weather so she went to the car to lay down for a bit.
She's going to start writing now. Love, Alexis
I had a nice lovely nap in the car for an hour. On account of my hangover, my cold had reared its ugly head and talking to strangers who I could only understand every other sentence was not my cup of tea. The nap helped put some life back into me and made my throat hurt less, so when Elaine came back to see if I wanted to come in, I obliged.
I walk into a bar. I see Alexis, four inches from a balding man's face who I've never seen before waving a glass in his face. When I get closer I hear her yelling "Don't you fucking touch my whiskey. I need to go to the bathroom and I see you eyeing it, but I don't want you to fucking touch it..or drink it!" (he bought the said whiskey) When she comes back to the bathroom, she agitatedly explains to me how this man, Chris, has never done his own laundry, and his mother comes over at the start of every week to cook his food for him. He goes on to say that he supports Romney all the way and proceeds to show us pictures on his phone of "the Romney family." At this point I have gathered that he's trying to get a reaction out of Alexis, and let me tell you it's working. After a tirade that includes her views on marriage, babies and politics, she sits back in her chair, arms crossed and says "I don't care, let me be, it's my day to be an O'Connell." Gauging that this is where the day was at 4pm, I did the only thing I could do and had the boys order me a pint of Guinness. The average time from table to empty for each drink was astonishing, there were never less than 15-20 drinks on the small table, and as soon as we ran low, there were at least three guys offering us new drinks. Niamh was jiving with anyone that could stand on the dance floor, Alexis would argue with anyone that could speak, and I had the pleasure or watching it all with more sober eyes. As the heat started to die down and people were up dancing to Johnny Cash and The Jungle Book, Alexis and I decided we could no longer function if we didn't get food.
So we made our way to the center of town to search for some grub. Our initial search was unsuccessful. Everywhere was too expensive and would take too long. Finally for fear of being incapable of movement, I bought a baguette from a convenient store that gave us the energy to find a cheap Chinese restaurant. The place was completely deserted and at first we were afraid it was closed. But it wasn't and we sat down as the only patrons in the place. Less than five minutes later, two boys stumble in, clearly intoxicated and around our age. We decided to pool our tables and began to talk to Chris and Michael. They were stepbrothers from Galway and had decided to take a week off from school to come to Lisdoonvarna.
I have to say, Chinese food in Europe is really shitty. We ordered orange chicken, but what we got was chicken fingers covered in sweet sauce. It was not good and not worth €13. Luckily enough, our choice to pool tables paid off and a less than adequate meal with two drunk kids turned out to be free.
We made our way back to the Matchmakers Bar where we had left Niamh and Elaine. This is what it looked like, seeing as we didn't take a picture.
http://www.google.com/search?q=matchmaker+bar+lisdoonvarna&oe=UTF-8&hl=en&client=safari&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&ei=L5xfUO7fGM2AhQfT3IHwAQ&biw=768&bih=928&sei=MpxfUI1Sgs-EB_yLgbgO#biv=i|12;d|yz6UlObGM4iL5M:
When we got back, our party of 11 had become 2 as everyone had gone out to eat. We had no choice but to sit and enjoy our drinks while we waited for Elaine and Niamh to return. When we were finally reunited, it was all we could do to eat a burger and fries, and we were so tuckered out that we made our way home by the early hour of 9:30.
And about the title, there's a song that goes with it. We'll post it later.
Cheers,
Liz
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