(looking back on the trip now--i wish i had rented a car for a couple of days, though i would never ever give up the experience of being on the ground--ar a bhfód is the expression in Irish. but i would have liked to drive to galway or Dublin, i think, maybe over Connor pass. anyway...next time)
i decided to hitch into Dingle (an Daingean in Irish) and find out about renting a bike, see whether there was a place i could access the internet and to get some money for the week.
remembering to situate myself on the wrong side of the road--the left--i stuck out the wrong thumb--again the left--and watched a car go past every few minutes. there wasn't much traffic on this part of the Slea Head Drive--perhaps it was too early, or perhaps most of the tourists decided it wasn't worth driving past Ballyferriter. who knows? it wasn't 5 minutes before i got my lift, however, and in my excitement i asked the driver "An bhfuil sibh ag dul go dtí an Daingean?" forgetting that there was every chance they were German or English, and wouldn't know what the hell i just said! its lucky they were from Dublin.
the man and woman driving seemed in their 40's. they were awfully friendly. their three kids, about aged 9, 13 and 17 or so, were quiet and i'd say a bit startled by the randomness of my sudden presence in the car. the father and i spoke in Irish. i was so excited to be trying it out on people who really spoke the language in Ireland! it went pretty well, i suppose, and i think i quite impressed them when i told them i was from the US. in fact, throughout my trip i found that people were pretty stunned to hear that someone could learn Irish in America without having gone to a Gaelscoil, or our equivalent of grade school and middle school, except that all classes are conducted in the Irish language. they were curious about what resources are available here, so i told them about Daltaí na Gaeilge, and Ár dTeanga Féin and the like, and about the regular immersion programs that are conducted by those groups.
anyway we talked in Irish about this and that until we reached the Dingle. i mean Dingle. whatever.
they dropped me off on Strand Street, i think. with a blurry map of the town in my head--i had done a little research online before i left--i set off up Dykegate Lane to see what i could find.it was actually pretty early for Dingle. not too much was open just yet. i did manage to locate Paddy's Bike rentals and determined to come back when he opened a bit later. The Cafe Litertha is directly across the lane from the bikes, so i stopped in for a cup of coffee. a bit of Irish later i had a cup to go. i walked up to the Main Street and found an ATM and the post office. i did my business of buying postcard stamps there in Irish as well, and even managed to get in a joke about how it was a pity to use the stamps because they tend to be so beautiful. i think the ones i got had flowers on them or something. by then it was time to get the bike.
Paddy is a quiet man. oh he'll talk, but quietly. he has an air of calmness and patience about him that seemed contrary to the fact that he runs a bike rental shop in a pretty hopping tourist town. his shop is little more than half a room, with what seemed to be a sort of storage courtyard behind it. anyway he had a mountain bike that i was happy to rent for 50 euro for the week, plus 5 euro for the helmet that i knew i should rent but knew i wouldn't use, and the pump was free, as was the lock and key.
off i went, down to the harbour. i went out to the end of the main key, happy to be near so much water. we really need to move to the coast. we're both Pisces so of course it makes sense! in any case the view was of course great and i took some pictures to remember it by. there was a boat moored there that i was told was a famine ship--the Jeanne Johnston--it took passengers out of Ireland during the famine years. beautiful old sailing vessel--i don't know a schooner from a corsair so i can't tell you what configuration it was, but it had a bunch of sails and it looked as though pirates were going to come storming off of it and take all my booty. (NOTE--further research of my own photographs of the ship and of the internet have revealed that this is a replica of a ship that carried immigrants from Ireland to America during the famine years. it sailed out of Tralee--mb)well i rode around a bit until it was hungry, so i went back up to the Main Street to get some lunch. i found the Goat Street Cafe, on Upper Main Street. i noticed they had accommodations there so i decided to try to get a room for a couple nights in the town near the end of my stay. that way i could take in the "city life" and be nearer the bus when i would have to take it back to the airport. it happened that they did have a room for the time i wanted. so that arranged i sat down to enjoy lunch.
that place was smaller that Paddy's Bike Rentals. i ended up changing tables twice at the suggestion of a friendly 30-something Irish woman by the name Claire--a local singer--and she and i and a friend of hers who had a cute little daughter sat and had a friendly lunch. claire ate alot. i felt a bit like i should be eating more because i was being out eaten by a small woman, but really--i needed to take it easy because i had to ride the bike all the way back to Ballyferriter without throwing up. we parted ways and i set off on my journey back, hoping to catch a glimpse of some ancient ruin or other on the way.
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