Sunday, August 8, 2010

Days, The Second and Third

Well.

We left off with me in Ireland, full of tea and toast, and already confused again with the electric shower. I conquered it last year, but as I was so very sleepy, I took a very cold and then blazing hot shower (do you KNOW how much it HURTS to shave in cold water?!) before Austin pulled on a cord and them proceeded to have himself a nice, normal, hot shower. I did likewise the next day, and remembered yet again how easy the electric shower is. Stoopid me. Stoopid bleeding legs.

We slept the very deep sleep of three people who have no idea what time it is, and therefore are confused to the point of weeping. We were SUPER smart and booked ourselves to arrive for our first *real* day in Galway...on a Sunday. That's right, folks. Pastor Austin and myself (and Isla B.) had to get our still confused, still sleepy selves out of bed and ready for church at a hideous hour. Austin insisted that he wasn't tired, that he'd never felt better. Austin lies sometimes. It isn't his best trait.

Off we trotted to Discovery Church, enjoying the friends from last time, and drinking as much tea as possible to ward off the crazy feelings of my-body-is-floating-6-hours-behind-where-is-my-squishy-pillow-please? I'm sorry to say that although I thought I was ok...ish that day, I clearly was OUT OF MY HEAD because I didn't take any pictures. I guess I was thinking that...well...I don't know. Maybe I was trying to blend in and didn't want to feel the tourist? (Bwahaahaa..nah)

After a lovely lunch with friends (can't even remember what I ate! good grief...the JETLAG) we went back to the house...and...then...ZZZZZZZZ. Austin still insists that he wasn't sleepy. Mmkay.

We are now at Monday, July the 26th. We felt much more like real people, and were ready to eat Galway. And also, visit. Our friend Paul (who hasn't given me his permission to be named in the world's most popular blog) drove us into Galway's city centre. I was very, very glad to see the sheep. I heart Irish sheep.






So here we are, ready to revisit Shop Street, home of all things fun and fair. I cut my hair several weeks ago (well, I PAID someone to do it...which isn't a given with me) and at first I loved it and now I hate it. These pictures make me cringe. I know, I know...we are always our hardest critics. But...I'm pretty hard on others, so maybe that isn't true? I think WOWZA look at those hideous bangs that are flat. And YAHOO my hair went from wavy (normal) to just blah (happens every few years, don't know why) and what GREAT TIMING! Because it isn't like I'm already busy hating my body 8 months after Isla. NOTE: If you haven't had a third child, don't do it! I mean, if we're going to be totally selfish here, that is. Isla=love her. 3rd child body that is NOT obeying me AT ALL=not the best way to wake up in the morning. (There are people with no feet. There are people who have both sex organs. There are people who have necksag that looks like female underparts. I choose to be grateful.)





But here is our lovely Shop Street! Ahh....take it all in, folks. It goes on and on, full of horrible tourist shops, lovely crepe stops, pubs galore, and clothes I'll never afford (and some I wouldn't want to). It is always bustling, full of interesting things to do and see, and lined with street performers who do amazing/creepy/funny/scary/talented things.
Here's a sand sculpture guy who has a tool in his right hand, cigarette in his left. With his brown velvet jacket and crazy hair, he would suddenly sweep upwards to a standing position, and take a long drag from his smoke. He would stare off down the road, turn, stare at the sky, and then bend back to move a few granules of sand that would eventually make all the difference in his craft. It was rather clever.
I walked past this pub hundreds of times on our last trip. At least, it felt that way. I never, ever thought of the (sick? clever?) irony of the name, The King's Head. Ouch.And you, my fair love. Ahhh, how I've missed your decadent cakes of fluff and light and delicately sugared custard! You made me gain 7 pounds last time. Sigh. Yes, I'll come sit and visit for awhile. You are a good friend, Griffin's Bakery, and I owe it to you. I won't be happy when I return and my pants are too tight. But I'll have the memory of us.


Just look at it. The berries...the freshly whipped cream...the hidden crunchy toasted coconut.
Bread by any other name...


Raspberries, honey glazed confection, jam filled heart. Ah, how you swell my hips and spirits.
So simple, so divine, so happy to see me.

Um. This is quite simply because it is mentioned in the Bridget Jones books. Yes, I'm that kind of reader.

After our lovely jaunt into the city centre, we had dinner with some Irish friends, ate two kinds of potatoes on the same plate, had 8 cups of tea and drove home. Isla is still the world's best traveling baby. And, Austin and I are Very Full Of Food.

Come back tomorrow (unless my children drag me bodily from the computer like last time) to hear about Day 4, in which we visit The Cliffs of Moher!

2 comments:

eL. said...

I'm hungry now...

Tanya said...

Tiffany,

I adored reading about your trip and was equally pleased to find that you are "that kind of reader." I read a bit of everything and find it quite tiresome to be on the receiving end of a snooty patootie look about my choice of reading materials.

It sounds like you had a glorious trip and I'm so happy for you! You were long overdue for a vacation. Considering the events of the past few months--I was beginning to think the universe was holding some sort of grudge against you.

Unfortunately, you've only made my longing for a trip to the Emerald Isle worse than it was!

Looking forward to the next installment...