On towns being smaller than pecieved: Conwy, Wales

Monday morning. I had the hardest time getting out of bed. Also, I had been too tired the night before and hadn't packed. So I got out of bed - much too late - and threw everything in my bag, splashed some water on my face, brushed my teeth and walked out the door. It was just one of those mornings where all my faith in my optimistic self was restored. I woke up late. Walked out the door late. Made it to the train station late, but got on the train without a problem. Things just worked out. They always do.

Ten minutes later, I realized I shouldn't have felt quite so triumphant. My glasses hadn't made it into my bag in my rushed packing of the morning. It was then that it hit me. I've been to Europe four times. This was the third time that I had lost my glasses while in Europe. I'm stupid. I need to be more careful with things that are that freaking expensive. To set anyone's mind at ease - mainly my dad's as he reads this - all is OK now. I emailed the hostel and they are sending them to me, so all is not lost :)

Apparently when one wants to stop at Conwy, Wales, they need to tell the conductor, else the train just doesn't stop there. Definitely underestimated the size of the town. Thankfully, there was one other backpacker on the train, who knew this and had requested the stop. If not, I would have been in real trouble. When I got off the train, I saw a building straight ahead that said, "Visitor's Center." I thought, "aha, I am in luck!" No. It was closed. I then pulled out my handy Rick Steves' book and read that I shouldn't go to the "Visitor's Center" anyway. What I needed to find was the Tourist Info.

I followed the map and in probably two minutes I was there. Now, my biggest concern for the day was whether or not I was going to be able to leave my bag somewhere or not. That was another reason that I wasn't planning on staying long in Wales... If I was going to walk around with a 12 Kilo backpack, then I did not want to be there for the entire day. This leads into me falling in love with the Welsh and Irish people. I think I may have been the only client at the TI that entire day, and the owner graciously let me leave my bag behind the desk for the length of my stay... "unofficially" of course.

With a skip in my step - I could not hide my joy of having that ginormous weight lifted - I headed to the castle. I didn't know what to expect when I went to the castle... Oh, and by headed to the castle, I mean I walked across the street. I don't even know how else to explain how small and quaint this town was. I thought that it would maybe take me 30 minutes to explore the castle. Nope. It took me two hours. It had so many rooms and towers. The view from each tower was more exceptional than the last. 

It was another one of those "silly grin on my face for hours" deals. In my entire time there, I saw maybe 10 other people in the castle. It was just the perfect time to go. Yes, I was cold, but the pictures - with absolutely no one in them - were worth any frostbite that I may have accrued. One tower would have a perfect view of the bay - another tower a perfect view of the sun in between two mountains. Just beyond thankful for Julia's camera which made it possible for me to capture, to the best of my ability, the beauty of Conwy.

After a perfect afternoon tea and lunch, I hit the highlights of Rick Steves' walking tour of the town and then headed to the train station. 

Now get this - in order to get picked up from Conwy, one must wave down the train, or else they won't stop. I was the only person on the platform, so whether or not I would get on that train (that only frequented Conwy once an hour) was completely up to me. I accepted this challenge... seeing as I had no choice. I stood on the edge of the platform and waved my hand wildly as the train pulled up, and it was worth all the energy I put into it. 

The conductor stopped the train for me, gave me a discount on my ticket for no apparent reason (because he's Welsh and he's awesome?) and I settled in for my ride through the countryside of Wales. Which was gorgeous. I wish pictures and videos from trains turned out well, but they don't. You'll just have to go yourself. With me. I'm going back.

So there I was on the train, headed to Holyhead, where the ferry to Wales embarked for Ireland. Did I have a ticket? Nah. Was I sure that I would be able to figure out where to get one and how to get on the ferry when I got there? Yep. Was I right? Yep. Thank you optimism for another win. When I went up to the ticket booth to buy my ferry ticket, the guy said, "Do you have a rail pass?" "No..." I replied. "Ah, yeah ya do," he said - and just like that my ticket price was cut in half. And just like that my love and respect for the Welsh soared.

The ride on the ferry went by much too quickly, but I guess, in the end, I was happy that I got to Ireland sooner. I had spent so much time the night before trying to figure out how I would get from the ferry to my hostel. Nothing made sense. 

This time around, I was much more realistic than usual, and positive that I could not figure out how to get there, I took a taxi. I feel like, in the end, taxis are never worth it. This one ended up being more than half the price of my ferry ticket. But this taxi was worth every penny.

The moment I climbed into the cab, the driver said, "Where ya from, girlie." My reply - obviously, "The states!" "Oh, I'm sorry." I start laughing, thinking to myself how funny Irishmen are when he glares at me and says,"You people think that we have such a great sense of humor, but really we're just rude and mean everything we say." And this is the moment I fell in love with the Irish people. I have read that they have the "gift of gab." But it's something so much more than that. Not only can they talk to whomever about whatever... They actually care. You can see it in their eyes and in their actions. Businessmen on their way home from work sit down and chat with the homeless and beggars on the street. It seemed like every Irishman I came in contact with immediately took on the role of either brother or father to me. Like, back to the taxi driver for example, "If anyone bothers you, call me up honey, I'll teach 'em a lesson."

He gave me a tour of the city, as only a taxi driver can do. Telling me absolutely everything that I need to do during my visit in Dublin - I gladly soaked it all in, having absolutely no plan for the upcoming week. He then launched into a lecture about how stupid I was for traveling alone, and that 350 girls get taken in Europe each year. And even though I may think that everyone will come looking for me that I'll be in Saudi Arabia by then and I will never get out and never be found. 

After scaring me senseless, he gave me a grin and told me that I would be OK as long as I stayed in Ireland. When he dropped me off at my hostel, I handed him my card - as I have always seen it done in NYC and Boston - and he looked at me like I had two heads. "What am I supposed to do with this?!" Apparently they only take cash in Dublin. "Ummm... Do you know where an ATM is?" I have learned from this trip that you never ask a taxi driver if he knows where something is; the reply will always be, "I know where everything is." He left me with a "f***ing crazy blonde girlie" and boom there I was in Ireland, and I already knew that I never wanted to leave.

I immediately booked my room for the next night as well, not wanting to have to think about checking out the next morning. Upon arriving in my room, I saw that I had 3 guy roommates. I couldn't help but laughing to myself, thinking about the reaction that this would have caused among my fellow interns in Brussels. A couple of them probably would have cried if they had stayed there and seen the guys walking around in boxers. They preferred the apartment scene... But you don't meet new people that way!

John, my Portuguese roommate, had just gotten a job as a chef and was staying at the hostel until his apartment was ready for him to move into. Just an example of the different people you end up sleeping feet away from. Another plus about rooming with guys - they take like 5 minute showers. When rooming with girls, I outwardly groan if she beats me to the bathroom. If a guy gets into the bathroom, I know I better hurry and get all my things ready, so that I am ready when he gets out! Although, one morning, I waited for about 30 minutes and was starting to get super annoyed. I decided to knock to hurry them up... Only to realize that the last guy had left the light on. It was empty.

I then headed out to find a good Irish pub, realizing as I left what a perfect location I was in. I surprisingly found a nice, more quiet pub where I drank the recommended Guinness and read up on the history of Ireland. After coming up with a tentative plan for the next day (aka: go to the tourist info center and possibly get a hop on/off bus ticket), I strolled the streets - and grabbed McDonalds. In my excitement I had forgotten to eat. Now THAT is how you really know that I was excited.