Dingle to Doolin via Tralee and Limerick; Sixty thousand rugby fans; Armin and Cameron decide to skip Limerick; Music at the pub

Sheryl, Armin and I caught the 10am bus out of Dingle Town, bidding it and Fungi the dolphin a fond farewell. Cameron the Aussie from Killarney boarded at the next station along, but we didn’t see him until Tralee. We got off the bus short of the bus station to hit the library and use the internet, and then walked back to the station. Armin had inadvertently stolen the only key to his 4-bed room from the last hostel - we joked that this would destroy Max the Friendly Frenchman’s faith in human nature and now he’d be angry, bitter and unfriendly. Wishing to prevent this loss to humanity at all costs, we found a post office. Irish post offices are easily identifiable by their green colour scheme. Unfortunately they’re also closed a lot of the time, as this one was, so on to the bus station to board the bus for Limerick.

When we reached Limerick it was crawling with rowdy rugby fans in red shirts - sixty thousand of them crowding the city. The Munster team was playing one of the European teams for some championship or other. Cameron and Armin took one look at the sea of red shirts and the lack of accommodations and decided to come to Doolin with us instead of stopping there as they’d planned. We hung around in the park - Limerick’s only nice feature - and chatted with some hippies on permanent medical disability - for which they got a perpetual open bus ticket on Bus Éirann! They were boozing in the park and having a grand time. They reminded me of our friends Drake and Tunde from back home.

On to Doolin, finally - another three hours through winding roads and some lovely country. When we reached there we settled into the hostel - there was no room for Armin so he borrowed our tent and set it up behind the building. A quick dinner and then we headed down to the pub - one of two in town, Doolin is small - and listened to some good music, then back to bed.

Flourish

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Chris Liberty - Dispatches from a Gentleman Adventurer
Being the internal dialog of a vagabond who chased his own tail across five continents for 4 years and 2 days from May 2008 to May 2012, in search of something that never really became clear.
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