It's here. The Final Word

As I traveled throughout Ireland it seemed as if each segment of my journey was competing with the last to be more fantastic, more memorable. The scenes all attempted to surpass each other by being larger, greener, rockier, more severe, more unique. Though the Irish use the term “grand” to casually say “that’s great,” “grand” is probably the most appropriate descriptor for the places I’ve been over the past six weeks. Because I am still here in Ireland and not completely done with my trip, I can’t imagine that I will be able to properly reflect on everything that’s happened to me; however, I believe my thoughts while I am still here are not consequently invalid. I cannot predict how leaving this context for another environment might consolidate my perceptions or alter my life. A more refined reflection might be more elegant, but I think that there is some value in the raw feelings that I have at this moment. This might get wordy, so I’m going to attempt to organize my summary of experiences into a few categories replete with thesis statements and works cited (thanks Expos 20). I’m kidding…sort of. I think most of my blog thus far has covered my little stories that have made things exciting. I could go on with those vignettes forever, but I don’t think that should be the focus of this ultimate self-expression. If you want juicy stuff I recommend skipping to Chapter 4.

Table of Contents:
1) The Places (in Ireland)
2) The People (of Ireland)
3) The Profession (of research-writing)
4) The Person (me)

1) Oh, the Places You’ll Go! (The Places)
You’ve heard me rave with considerable consistency about the beauty of Ireland. A person would be hard-pressed to find an ugly place on the island. I don’t think that needs reiteration. Instead, I’m going to attempt to rank my favorite places with brief explanations why. Oh, and these are not limited to places I’ve reviewed for Let’s Go, but are obviously limited to places that I have been at some point.

5. Killarney. Though touristy, it is fun because it is so active. The town is a great size—more than a single main street, but easily walkable. Killarney National Park along the Ring of Kerry is a great place. Sure, it has the roadside stops with tons of camera-toting retirees, but the scenery is worth it. The Black Valley and Gap of Dunloe down in the middle of the ring is often neglected, but is impressive being surrounded by the largest mountains in Ireland.


4. Beara. Often passed by for the attractions of the Ring of Kerry, the Beara is stunning. It also has a really really fun road to drive down. Healy Pass is a super windy road that goes down the side of a mountain. I felt like a Formula One driver. Also, the Dzogchen Buddhist Retreat Centre is set along the peaceful cliffside coast. It is a most excellent place to slow down and get in touch with yourself.


3. Dingle. The town is bit too touristy, meaning it is packed to the brim with people from all over. As the sister city of Santa Barbara, California, it definitely lives up to the cute yuppiness with nice cafes, restaurants, and pubs. The best part is the rest of the peninsula. The Blasket Islands, no longer inhabited, are gorgeous and Slea Head Drive has incredible views and interesting archaeological attractions. Northern Dingle is very quiet and has a genuine local appeal. Also, Inch Strand is the best beach I’ve seen in Ireland; it’s huge, not crowded, and has perfect sand and an impressive view of the Ring of Kerry.


2. Achill Island. Too far northwest for most tourists, Achill Island is having trouble getting enough business these days. That doesn’t make it any less fantastic. The scenery is jaw-dropping. The accommodations are top-notch. If you like big mountains that dive into the Atlantic Ocean, this is the place. Keem Strand at the tip of the island is like a hidden tropical alcove. Also, the island has a bridge that will get you there instead of the long ferry that costs a bunch to get to the Aran Islands. I’ll take the big beaches and mountains of Achill over the Arans any day.


1. Connemara. It wins this competition for its romantic appeal and sheer beauty. Most tourists stop at Galway City and don’t explore Galway County, which contains a very untouristed, unpopulated plot of pure nature. The Twelve Bens and Maumturk Mountains dominate the skyline. Bogs cover the fields with their unique flora and fauna. The Western Way is a majestic walking trail that wanders throughout. The national park is well-designed. Towns are authentic Irish experiences. Gaeltacht regions retain the Irish language heritage. Connemara is such a dream that there is a popular French song all about it. Sorry, I don’t know the words. All in all, Connemara is the most poetic of places I’ve been.

2) Hello, I love you. Won’t you tell me your name? (The People)
Saying that Ireland has changed is a huge understatement. I’ve mentioned most of this stuff in previous entries, but it is striking enough to reiterate one last time. First of all, the native Irish are changing immeasurably. Rural areas are being connected to more commercial, cosmopolitan regions through larger roads, Internet access, and increased tourism. The international media access to larger towns and cities is encouraging the Irish youth to put on the skin of American and European cultures while attempting to hang onto traditional Irish values. Put all that in a blender and you get drunken boys taking drugs from cocaine to steroids and drunken girls puking in the bathroom and getting boob jobs at age 16. With the glories of modern society come some serious problems. It will be interesting to see how Irish culture reacts to this assault on its values. That being said, most places I saw were impressively rooted in the Irish ways that make them such an attractive people. They are wonderfully kind and welcoming people with a true understanding of community and hospitality (even though they can get quite vicious while speeding down the narrow windy roads).
Ireland used to be known as a place that people left. Now it is a place that people come. It’s that simple. From famine, internal strife, and a weak economy has emerged the Celtic Tiger (that’s not my term—it’s the national phrase for the fierce economy and strong will of the people). Eastern Europeans and Africans flock to Ireland for jobs, especially in labor. The Polish plumber is the stereotypical image of the human immigration. However, the huge amount of construction jobs that Ireland has created is going to slow down at some point. Where will all these people go if the jobs start to disappear? The Irish people don’t seem to mind the influx at all as long as there are plenty of jobs to be had. The multiculturalism seems to be relatively well-accepted in major cities. However, smaller towns have yet to interact with black people or compete for Mr. Fix-It jobs with the hard-working eastern Europeans. Who knows what will happen, but for now it is very apparent that Irish demographics are in flux. With only 4-5 million Irish citizens, the 300,000 immigrants constitute an enormous proportion of society now. As Americans, it doesn’t seem like a big a deal because we’re used to it, but this is quite the shake-up.
Despite the modern social issues confronting Ireland, my primary impression fixates upon the incredible culture and community here. Being able to truly dig into this unique society has been the experience of a lifetime. I believe that only by traveling alone could I have achieved the level of participation and understanding of this place that I was lucky enough to gather.

3) Where the Streets Have No Name (The Profession)
Although it seems like Bono was singing about a specific mythical place in the song, all of Ireland is “Where the Streets Have No Name.” Seriously, navigation cannot be taken for granted around here. There are no addresses or street signs. I learned quickly that good planning and a hefty dose of luck usually gets you to the right spot after a while. Ireland is small so you can’t get lost for very long.
The job was definitely tedious. I never expected writing the copybatches to be fun and exciting, but it still managed to put a damper on my enjoyment of the place on a few occasions. Then again, that work is the entire reason why I was here in the first place, so I can’t complain. In fact, researching was downright awesome. It basically forced me to have fun. I guess the job consisted of was what I would do while there even if it was just vacation. In fact, that’s probably why I didn’t take any rest days. I just worked 35 days straight because most of the work was enjoyable. It also frequently shoved me out of my comfort zone. No hiding in a bubble during this mission. I had to put on a few different hats to get the job done sometimes, and for that I appreciate how this experience made me a little socially hardier than before. A lot of people don’t realize how easily they become intimidated when thrown into situations alone. Going it alone takes some balls, but after traveling like this, I would much prefer walking into a good pub alone than in an insular group of obvious foreigners. Once I finished with work, it took me a few days to calm down my frenetic researching frame of mind. No longer must I check opening hours, admission fees, or entrée price ranges. Have some fun, you nerd.
The only things I will shamelessly complain about are the wages. For my route, I rarely stayed in the same area two nights in a row. I was constantly on the move. Being perpetually homeless like that is not simply mentally trying, but financially demanding, especially in a ridiculously expensive country like Ireland. “Hello, Let’s Go? Yes, this is the World speaking. All my people know that Ireland is one of my most expensive places to survive, let alone vacation. It has been a long time since it was the poverty-stricken town drunk of Europe. Throw your poor RWs a bone.”
As I’m sure you noticed, I took advantage of my wonderful surroundings and proved to be a little camera-happy. I like pretty things. My pictures help me to share those places with you all as well as help me remember my greatest moments here. I’m the 21st century version of the guy who pulls out five million pictures of his kids from his wallet. Well, I don’t have kids (that I know of), so my babies that I’ve forced upon willing observers have been my majestic Kodak moments of mountains and lakes. Also, my photos make great desktop backgrounds.

4) I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For (The Person)
This is the part that I’m not sure I can fully appreciate yet. I think that it will be reflection in future situations that will trigger the deepest personal analysis. I know that I joked about finding myself out here alone, but we all know how impossible that task truly is for most people. I took a course called Self and Identity and just like at the end of that seminar, I found here that I go home with more questions than answers. To myself and throughout the blog I’ve caught myself romanticizing the traditional Irish life, the small town community, the simple things. I idealized the mental offerings of Buddhism and its focus upon compassion and happiness. I’m not saying that I want to be these people I’ve admired; I most certainly will not trade in my lot in life to be an Irish farmer, but I think there are important lessons here that I hope I can incorporate into my own life while still being a mainstream American.
There are so many different directions pulling my life at this moment that I am utterly befuddled by the prospect of making a decision. I hoped that this time here in Ireland would offer me some clarity of vision and rare insight into my life’s calling. As most of you know, I’m a stark realist. I don’t believe one bit in the “meaning of life” or “fate” or “purpose.” Those are all tools used to make us feel important, to lift our existence up above the level of dogs. However, freeing yourself from any prescribed meanings of purpose gives us the ability to assign our own purpose to ourselves—quite a liberating situation if one can conquer the difficult question of what purpose they want to pursue in life. The only ultimate judge is oneself. So, with that mentality, I ask myself, “what the hell should I do with myself to maximize my satisfaction?” As Johnny Cash sang just years before his death, “One thing’s for certain/When it comes my time,/I’ll leave this ole world/With a satisfied mind.”
The way I see it, there are three important players in my life: me, other people, and society. I split other people and society apart because society is kind of a faceless entity with norms, pressures, competitions, etc. Other people, on the other hand, are the individuals that make up society but do not necessarily embody society’s values. For instance, working for a nonprofit school would be working for other people and even improving society but not necessarily personally succeeding by society’s standards. Running a corporation, owning a big home, and being well-known are all society-driven successes but may fail to satisfy the other two categories. Of course, the personal category is often neglected for pursuits in the other two fields. Though I make society sound like the Devil, I, too, want some degree of social success. Saying otherwise would be lying to myself—I have always been very perceptive of my social appearance. Here’s the main idea: I want to do something that helps others, is appreciated by society, and stirs some passion within me. It’s a tall order—idealistic to say the least. Despite what some of you think, I’m a sensitive person. Despite what others of you think, I’m a cold-hearted bastard. Such are the variety of faces each of us may have.
On a somewhat lighter note, I’ve had plenty of emotional time while driving alone or hiking around the scenic countryside. Actually, it’s not a lighter note at all. The range of emotions available for experience when you’re by yourself is surprising. At some point you get comfortable with yourself and let go of the restrictions that you’re used to imposing upon yourself. I like how I’m putting this in second-person to avoid talking directly about myself. Well, you can do the translation yourself. I’ve laughed, cried, yelled, whispered, made faces, not made faces, talked to myself in an Irish accent, talked to myself in an Aussie accent, and all kinds of other inane things that I rarely have the chance to do simply for the sake of doing them. I think that’s an incredible feeling—not having to check your emotions at the door. I know that I’ll have to return to the world of civilized society, but I hope that I can take a little of this personal freedom with me wherever I may go in the future. Let loose a little, be a kid. Speaking in rigid, technical terms: being an adult 100% of the time literally kills people. Hey mom, that’s something I learned in class at Harvard!
Going home to my sister’s wedding got me thinking a little bit. I’m not about to start telling you about the specifics of who I want to marry, so don’t get excited. The situation just made me realize that she found Patrick when she was a junior in college. I’m well past that mark and I’m not in a serious relationship. As much as I’ve romanticized being alone, I’ve also felt a strong desire to be able to share life with someone. Some people try to tell themselves that they’re loners, but humans are social creatures with a need for tight connections to others. We find each other. While on the road alone, I met countless other souls doing the same as I. We all enjoyed each other’s company and spent time talking about anything on our minds despite the fact that we’d be parting ways the next day. Yes, it’s important to have private time, but our minds are designed for social interaction. As much as I like being a hermit or a lone hill-walker, I cherish relating the experiences of life to my friends as much as I cherish the experiences themselves. Long story short, even though people know me as one who likes to hop from relationship to relationship (following the advice of my dad), I really only do that in hopes of finding someone that can appreciate life as I do in a state of perfect mutual enhancement. Perfect is probably a horrible word to use because it seems to be that unreachable horizon, but if you don’t think of perfect as a single pinnacle but as a state reachable through many possible avenues, then perfect is quite realistic.

On that note, I’d like to end this by saying that this trip was perfect. Sure, there were lows, but as with all things in life those made the highs feel so much higher. I finish this journey completely ready to go home in an excellent mood. I have not yet tired of Ireland—I don’t know if I ever could. I am simply pleased with what I’ve seen and done; I’ve left nothing wanting. I’m ready to return to earth with these memories in my pocket and hopefully utilize some of the lessons that I’ve learned. Thanks for reading this far and bearing with the glimpses into my mind. If any of you made it this far, I’m thoroughly impressed. I hope I’ve entertained.

The final count:
44 days
50½ pints of Guinness.
Countless memories.

Booyeah.

Vacationing with Annie is sweeeeeet. We made omelets and meditated in the incredibly beautiful cliffside Buddhist retreat centre. I feel at peace with the world. Now for the hectic and much more populated east coast. Get ready for the "Final Word on Ireland," my imminent endpiece on my experiences.

Day: 39
Guinness: 48.5

Notepads and Sheilas

Totally unrelated to anything, but horribly creepy



I don't think I've mentioned my notepad before. It's my Let's Go issued mini pad that I've kept in my back right pocket the entire trip and used for taking notes of all kinds. It's an organized mess. Starting from front to back, I took notes regarding work. From back to front, I took notes on personal things unrelated to work. The back page was divided in half by a vertical line. The left side was labeled "days" and the right side was labeled "Guinness." With hash marks I've kept track of my numbers. I had this notepad this morning as I marked the new day and counted the Guinnesses I'd consumed the night before. The notepad is not in my back pocket currently. I do not know where it is. I fear the worst.

That travesty aside, I met some absolutely delightful Aussie ladies in my hostel yesterday--Michaela, Belinda, and Lauren. They first thought I was a huge nerd because I sat on my laptop for a long time while we were sitting in the common room together. Then, after chatting for a bit, they realized that they had indeed made a proper assessment of my nerdiness, but also conceded that my job was pretty sweet. They proceded to abuse my knowledge of the cool places to see in the area in order to plan their trip. But seriously, they were some of the most enjoyable people I've spent time with so far. It was Friday night, so we decided to hit the pub scene. We ended up going to some weird bar where all the young Irish lads and lasses went to see and be seen. Michaela and I had fun finding the ugliest dresses. Frankly, Irish folks don't have a sense of style. They also can't dance. They sure can drink, but we knew that already. Anyway, it was a late night of us buying drinks for each other and trying to avoid the sketchy dudes attempting to prey on girls. I also had a shot called the "Quickfuck." How horrendously distasteful and inappropriate and...delicious! Good times.

In other news:
I'm in a town called Sixmilebridge. Booyeah. I met a super nice American couple who are roughly in their late 60s. They're from Michigan, right around where my mom's family is from, so we started chatting about all sorts of things. They have 7 kids. they couldn't get a daughter, so they eventually just adopted one.

Budweiser, though still the same Anheiser-Busch American beer, is technically an Irish beer, not an import, because it is brewed at St. James Gate, Dublin brewery. Sneaky.

It switched from rain to sun more times than I could count today.

I went to a castle, but didn't go in because the tourist density was above my threshold for enjoyment.


I want my notepad. It had e-mail addresses of cool people I've met. From what I can remember:

Day: 36
Guinness: 48.5
Budweiser: 2 (thanks Belinda)

A long blog that is worth it to read. I swear.

1) I’m done with work. I’m sure there will be some loose ends to tie up, but I’m done researching and writing copybatches. As I went wherever I wanted today, I found myself consulting the Let’s Go book for basic things and then mentally taking note and correcting the info for things I encountered. Hopefully that neuroticism will fade so I can properly enjoy myself the next several days.

2) Sean O’Brien. I shared a bunk with him the other night in Ballinskelligs. He was incredible. Ellsworth, if you’re out there, Sean O’Brien is your Irish counterpart. He’s this really friendly retired guy who loves to talk about anything and everything. He basically travels around Ireland living in hostels. In his spare time, he plays some traditional music. He’s not too bad at the harmonica, tin whistle, and concertina. He bought me a drink at the local pub and played with this other lady who was so tone deaf and rhythmically retarded that I thought she had some disorder. After I realized that she was only musically retarded, she told me the name of this girl and I thought the name was the most beautiful name I’d ever heard. Then I forgot it. Yeah, I’m horrible. Sean’s main hobby is photography and making documentaries. He actually won an American national competition for one he put together. He also has these hilarious business cards that he made. He gave me one to hold onto. He hates dirty public toilets, so if one is bad, he goes to the manager and says that he found this card sitting in their restroom. The card is red with a rose and doesn’t have his name on it. On it is printed as such:
A.R.S.E.
Assn. for Restoration of Sanitary Excellence
Toilet Spy
Irish Representative (No. 9)
Dublin 22
Condition of your toilet/s:
Not great ( ) Poor ( ) Very Poor ( )
Will call again.

It’s all bunk, but some people take it seriously and clean the toilet. It scared the bejeezus out of one of his friends who runs a pub.

3) People are drawn to natural beauty. Seeing how tourists flock to famous natural sites to snap some photos (if you haven’t noticed, I hate their behavior, but hang with me; I think I’m going to make a point), I have faith in humanity’s appreciation for aesthetics. Though humans constantly produce things of utter hideousness out of desire to be original or out of sheer incompetence, the majority of people from various cultures and races can look at certain things and almost unanimously agree that it is either beautiful or ugly. This is not to say there aren’t cultural elements to aesthetic opinions; there is just some universal element that becomes apparent in certain places I’ve been or when people have seen the pictures I’ve taken.
There’s also something about natural versus synthetic beauty. Great natural scenes always in my mind surpass anything I’ve seen a human create. I tried to put my finger on what made nature so much more attractive—the scale (minute or massive), the colors, the age. These things are all true, but I think the key factor is much less concrete. It is the simple fact that natural is the antithesis of synthetic that makes things truly awesome to humans. Because we cannot make it by definition, it is unattainable and therefore enthralling, intriguing, incredible.





Of course, some damn contrarian will say that humans are themselves natural living creatures, that we are not distinct from what I am calling nature. Humans create each other through natural means (until we have genetic engineering Gattaca style). I didn’t say humans themselves weren’t beautiful. Anyway, I think someone out there has a good definition of synthetic that will make the distinction.

4) One of my best driving songs is called “Flirtin’ With Disaster” by Molly Hatchet. It’s a classic rock song of the exciting hell-raising lifestyle on the edge, but it has great meaning for anyone venturing out into the world. After an inspiring guitar intro, it opens with the verse:
“I’ve been travelin’ down the road
and I’m flirtin’ with disaster.”

I think that sums up an aspect of this trip that I haven’t fully appreciated. As I’ve traveled down the road, I have indeed flirted with disaster. Any number of unfortunate things could have happened to my car (knock on wood, I’m not done with that sucker yet). I could have been robbed. I could have lost things (wait…I did lose things, but they could have been more important than a shirt and a towel). I could have gotten sick. I could have died. I could have gotten into a bar fight. I could have been gunned down by the random army guards wandering the street of Killarney today to prevent July 12th riots. You get the idea. Well, despite minor things here and there, I have gone 5 weeks flirting with disaster and deftly/luckily (but mainly luckily) avoiding it.

the noble sheep sends disaster running in fear.

5) I am in the Peacock Farm Hostel. There is a real peacock walking around in all it’s feathered glory.

Day: 35
Guinness: 45.5 (I had a glass, which equals a half-pint)

Happiness is…

A warm fire. In a beautiful mansion to be exact. I spent an entire evening sitting in a gorgeous common room of an old mansion just outside Dingle’s town center. That old yellow paint that was popular about a hundred years ago is on the walls, intricate molding on the ceiling. I sat there doing work all by myself in this lovely place with the warm fire crackling nearby. Then I went to sleep in a room with a ton of people in bunk beds, but we don’t need to focus on that part.

A warm beach. Two warm beaches to be exact. On my drive from the Dingle Peninsula to the Iveragh Peninsula, I took an unplanned stop at Inch Strand. Let’s be hokey: I got a foot out of that Inch. The beach was amazing—the best one I’ve seen all trip. Long and sandy with the mountains of the Ring of Kerry painting the horizon. The fact that is was sunny and actually not cold made me smile to myself. Rolling my pant legs up, taking off my shoes, and putting on my t-shirt, I spent a little time walking up and down the beach. Right as I left, a tour bus pulled up and tons of old people got out with their cameras ready for actions. Perfect timing. The next beach was nice as well. It’s right down the road from where I’m staying in Ballinskelligs. Warm water and the ruins of a castle. Glorious. Ballinskelligs has very few foreign tourists and a lot of Irish vacationers in holiday homes. I think this is where they all go when tourists invade their respective towns.


I’ve gone through my two CDs that I burned about 20 times each, but they’re great songs so I keep cycling through them despite the skipping. Besides, I get about 1.5 radio stations out here. On the road, while trying to sing along to She Sell Sanctuary by The Cult, I thought about some of the times I had during the last couple weeks of school. Instead of crying, I started laughing out loud because let’s be honest, most of it was just as fun and funny as it was sad.

Photos of the Ring of Kerry.
Why it is great:

Why it is horrible:


Day: 33
Guinness: 43

Kids are Cute

Yesterday I was wandering around Dingle and had a couple funny encounters with children. First, in a residential neighborhood, there was this little Irish boy decked out in Gaelic football jersey in a trimmed field all by himself. He was running up and down the field yelling commentary on the imaginary game he was playing. It was amazing. His commentary was just like the Irish commentators on TV.

Then I went to this really cool local pub that used to be a shoemaker's place. There are boxes of old shoes on the shelves still. Anyway, there was a British family there--father, mother, and 2-3 year old daughter. The man was a huge guy and hilarious. We chatted for a bit. He's a huge Manchester United fan. I pretended not to like Liverpool so that I'd stay on his good side. These drunk brothers were hilarious and had a bodhran (BOW-rain), a traditional Irish drum, out and singing songs and beating on it rather unskillfully. The girl loved the drum, so the brothers were great and let her beat on it. Every time she hit it, she would let out this huge giggle. Then her daddy sang a song and she covered her eyes in embarassment.

Almost done. Just a couple more days of hard hard labor left.

I met this really great Israeli guy at the hostel last night. We found out that we're the same age, so we went to the pubs together and talked a lot. Where I've done nothing to advance a career so far in life, he's already been a psychoanalyst for the army and been a commercial headhunter for corporations. Now he's traveling and starting afresh. We also found out that we'd run into the same Aussie cyclist. It was funny cause we were both talking about him indirectly then we realized we were talking abotu the same guy.

I'm planning on going to this Buddhist place on the Beara peninsula after I'm done.

Day: 31
Guinness: 43

Pictures of a Beautiful Day

Yesterday was incredible. One of the best days of the journey. First, the weather was perfect for the first time since the day I arrived. Everything was sunny and people were out and happy. I saw the blue sky and was able to wear just a t-shirt. That makes a big difference after 4 weeks of continuous gloom.
On top of that, I saw some beautiful things. The Dingle peninsula is amazing. Slea Head Drive goes around the coast and has a bunch of ancient structures and some very severe landscape into the ocean. Here's a picture along the way:



This one spot I remember I went to with the family three years ago. We just stared at this beach for a little bit and went on our way:


I decided to go walking on this path along the cliffs to Slea Head, which gave a beautiful view of the Blasket islands, like so:


It was scary as hell because the path was a narrow little walkway about 2 feet wide. Sometimes the path made me clamber over some rocks. The whole way, a misstep could mean…DEATH! But seriously, it could have. Funny how the millions of spiders in the hostel I’m staying in right now make me more anxious than walking along a precarious edge. Furthermore, I’m sure there were lots of spiders on the cliff that didn’t bother me.


Also, I went to this really cool private museum of this American guy who was a famous street musician in Europe. He made a bunch of money and bought a ton of ancient artifacts from old European dudes and has it all in his house. He was a really cool guy and we chatted for a while, especially about how much of a dick Rick Steves is. Rick Steves has a travel guide for Ireland. Rick Steves’ Ireland. Anyway, Rick writes means thing about the museum that are unfounded and then evidently used the guy’s music in his videos without consent. Legal battle? I think so. You heard it here first. Oh, he also has the world’s largest intact wooly mammoth skull. It is special.

Dingle town the next couple days, then the Skellig Peninsula for a couple days. Then I’m done with work. Wow. Then it’s time to play for a week.

Day: 30
Guinness: 40