Dingle. No, for real. That's what it's called.

Well, my voice decided it wasn't needed here for about 3 days.  I'm not sure why it left, it was finally going to have the chance to speak English at a normal pace again.  Maybe it was protesting leaving France (I left my heart... and my voice? in France).  Maybe it wanted to sound like a veteran smoker, in solidarity with the French people it had just left.  (Ha, I kid).  So this was a fun little twist to my adventure.  But not the biggest twist!  I flew out of Marseille to meet my friend in Dublin.  Who, by the way, was meeting me in Ireland for a little post holiday vaca, because he's awesome like that.  Then we were going to drive aaaall the way across the country, a total of ...2 hours.  Ireland's not that big, folks.  We would take a little longer, of course.  Go kiss the Blarney stone, see a few castles, the usual.  But Fate had other plans!  

They're on my bad side now!

I was flying to Ireland on Ryanair, because hey, it's cheap.  I'm a no-frills kind of traveler anyway.  However, I AM an arrive-at-my-destination kind of traveler, and Ryanair failed to deliver on that score.  After leaving Marseille lots later than we were supposed to, I narrowly missed my connecting flight in London to Dublin.  Holding the plane for 10 minutes for me would have been amazing.  Putting me up in a hotel for the night would have been great.  Not charging me for missing my flight would have been the very least they could have done!  Especially since I missed my flight because I was... on one of their flights.  They did none of the above.  They did, however, put me on a flight for Kerry, a city on the west side of Ireland, the next afternoon.  So all in all, I ended up missing about 3/4 of a day in Ireland, Ryanair became an airline I will never use again, and life goes on.  

When my friend and I were discussing where to go, we knew Ireland would be one of the places we visited.  To be completely honest, I was lukewarm on visiting Ireland in general.  It's never been very high on my list of places to go, but the opportunity was there, as it is in Europe, and outside the Schengen zone, and therefore, available to me for visiting after France.  And my friend was excited.  So, first stop was to be Ireland.  After adjusting for the  delay in schedule (No Blarney Stone kissing, thanks Ryanair), our first stop in Ireland was now Dingle.  We knew basically nothing about it except that it's called Dingle.  But really, what else do you need to know?  And as it turned out, we were in for a treat.  

As with a lot of people, before I go traveling the world, I generally consult the travel guru, the head honcho of voyages, he who has done it all and will tell you how - Rick Steves.  We ended up listening to several of his podcasts while driving, and that, I think, really got me excited about being in Ireland.  He had Irish guests on his podcast show, and people would call in with their stories from when they traveled here.  Between the two of them (Rick and his guest), they seemed to know half the people the callers were talking about meeting.  I really got the sense that the people here are open, friendly, and happy to welcome you to their country.  I feel like this Irish saying sums it up well: "There are no strangers here, only friends you haven't met yet."  I love that.

Ireland has an interesting but rough history, all the way up through modern times.  Keeping their culture alive is vital to the people here.  In an effort to keep the Gaelic language alive, it's used in places like street signs, and people receive subsidies for learning and speaking it.  One thing I thought very interesting is how the people here have embraced their tourism industry and allowed it to change them.  For example, Irish pubs are known for being a place that you would go for an evening to listen to great live, local music.  But that's actually a relatively recent thing, which happened because tourists came here looking for that experience.  Smart, Ireland.  Smart.

So after a quick dinner of McDonalds (don't judge me!), we made it to Dingle around evening, checked in, and then wandered around town in search of food. 

Dingle is on a peninsula, and there's a road that you can follow that loops around, called... are you ready for this?  It's called the Dingle Loop.  I'm sure it's even more breathtaking on a clear day, but even covered in clouds and gray sky, it was so beautiful, and most definitely worth the entire trip out to see it.

   

After a quick stop in Galway, and by quick I mean an hour, in which we saw a street fair that looked like it was related to the circus somehow, and a guy dropping his dog off and driving away (??!! I'm just going to assume the dog likes to take daily walks along the river), we headed cross country to Dublin!  I should have known this, but you should expect to double your expected travel time when driving.  You definitely want the chance to pull off the road and check out any random thing that catches your interest.  My friend saw a castle and pulled off the highway so we could visit it.  And bless his eyes, I'm so glad he did!  


The castle he saw is Trim Castle, the one they 
filmed a lot of Braveheart in.  

All the rocks in the ground made terrible farming, but made all the cute walls possible!

The Cliffs of Moher, or as they are better known, the Cliffs of Insanity!  

It's about 700 ft down from where I'm peeking over the edge there

The food, well, it's not as good as France, bless them.

Soda bread.  Just as dry and crumbly as it is in the US.  I'm sorry, I'm just not a big fan.

Take tours.  Irish people are connected to their history and traditions, and enjoy sharing their stories.

Ireland rocks! (heh.  Get it?)

Farewell France! For the foreseeable future.

Well, I knew this day would come.  Three months is up, and it's time to leave France.  I kind of have to.  Tourists traveling without a visa can only stay in the Schengen Area, of which France is a part, for 90 out of 180 days.  So I gotta get out of Dodge, it seems.  And I'm really as unhappy about it as I was expecting to be.  This has been such an amazing experience; I can hardly believe I got to do it!  There were definitely some very French moments that I'm going to miss.

Don't even try to think that this
is the entire cheese section

Chocolate for breakfast, eating slices of butter on top of slices of meat, 3 desserts at a meal.  Let's be honest, they're eating the way we all wish we could.  Many Americans eat their meals with a side of guilt (myself included, sometimes).  There's no such thing as turning down dessert here!  And yet, for the most part, people are pretty fit.  This is a magical land.

I hope you can tell,
these are massive
blocks o' cheese

I like to cook, as does my host mom, so we've been swapping recipes, and I've made a few things for them.  I can't even tell you how pleased I was with myself when I made a lemon tart that was a big hit for a lunch with visiting family.

I also discovered that anything with large amounts of cheese = instant hit.  French people Like. Their. Cheese.  Which, to be fair, is pretty fabulous.  I'm expecting to pay an arm and a leg for anything similar when I get home.

We went to a swim meet for my host family's daughter one time.  As we were going in to the pool, I noticed a stand being set up for snacks and refreshments, coffee, etc. "Oh, well of course", I thought, expecting the usual cookies and rice krispie treats.  Oh no, I think not. I wish I could have taken a picture for you to see.  Croissants, baguettes, little tarts and pizza.  There was also a bbq going, and after the meet was over we got some food.  The "hot dogs" were two sausages nestled in a full half a baguette.  The good kind of baguette, all crusty on the outside and oh so soft inside.  I had a piece of pizza that had a chewy crust, and was lightly sprinkled with cheese, with ham and thyme on top, and was at least as good as any artisanal/specialty/wood fired pizza I've had at any restaurant.

They are not messing around when it comes to their food.

What I don't get is, the rest of the world knows about France.  How is it possible that bad sandwiches and dry cookies are still accepted anywhere?!

Things I learned:

I discovered Speculoos. Have you heard of it? It's like Teddy Grahams in creamy, spreadable form.  Go out to the nearest international market right now and get some.  Right now.  Unless you're, like, on a diet I guess, but who wants to live their life like that?

Note:  I haven't tried Cookie Butter from Trader Joe's, but the internet tells me it's the same thing.

I've found that I love Nutella so so much when I'm in France.  I eat it like a freak, like everyone else here does.  When I got back from my last trip to France, I bought a jar, because I was still on that high.  But I didn't like it and I didn't know why, and it went bad.  Did you know Nutella can go bad?  It just takes a really long time.  Turns out, Nutella has a different recipe in each country, based on what they think people's tastes are.  I did not know this.  So it's not just my imagination, it really IS better in France!

The most delicious
weird-looking cookie
I think I'll ever have

People here don't really walk around when they eat, either.  Meals are meant to be enjoyed. I love buying a pastry as I wander through a market, and munch as I explore, but I think that sets me apart as a tourist more than anything else.  My host mom thinks it's funny that I stand as I eat my breakfast (years of habit have led me to this).

It hasn't all been about food, though.  The climate was different.  Blue skies, 70's and 80's every.  Single.  Day.  Paradise does NOT get old, in case you were wondering.  However, people are people, and, testament to the fact that no one will be satisfied with their weather, ever, there were "bad days" also (which involved wind.  And probably some clouds too).  On days like that, one just does not go to the pool.

I met so many interesting people!  I think of myself as a fairly polite person, but people here are so very considerate that I had to make sure I was staying aware of my manners.  French hospitality: you may have never heard of it, but it's a real thing!  They fill your glass first, they make sure you get as much food as you want (and then some!)  They'll give you the last piece of cake.  They're better people than am.  I met some of the sweetest people ever!  (Maybe it's a southerner thing?)  

I even asked around to see if it's true that French people don't like American tourists.  Apologies to any French people reading this, but that's definitely an impression that Americans have.  After polling many many people, totaling probably about 5, 3 of whom lived in Paris (the most notorious French city for French snobbery), it really sounds to me like it's more a case of city folk/country folk.  People in busy cities are too busy to be polite to anyone, their fellow countrymen included.  Myth: BUSTED!

If it weren't for that whole Schengen Area restriction, it would be really hard getting me to leave.

Provence.  Wine country.

Avignon at night

Orange cow in the lobby of a hotel
in Marseille

Statue in Marseille

Well I'm just cheating now.  Since it's not at all possible to tell you about everything I did while I was here, I'm resorting to posting pictures with captions.

Les Alpilles - hill mountains
around the area I was in
in Provence.  Fun hiking,
great views.

Pont du Gard.  Part of a 31 mile Roman acquduct
from 1st century AD

Palais des Papes, Avignon

Palais des Papes.  Super important, historically.  It's from
like pre-14th century, guys.  

An impromptu weekend trip

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I was looking for ways to stay in France.  It started after a few weeks.  I found myself thinking to myself, "If I lived in France, I could shop at these markets all the time!", which became "If I lived in France, I'd probably work in tourism", until eventually I was thinking, "If I lived in France, I'd totally live in this town."  If I lived in France, I'd totally live in Lyon.

I didn't know much about Lyon before I went there, and therefore, had no expectations for what it would be like.  It wasn't even on my radar as a place to visit.  Not that I'd turn down a trip there, but there were just so many other places that captured my interest.  But as it turns out, my second host family's son lived there for college, and he was coming home after school ended for the summer.  His grandmother was going to pick him up, and my host mom suggested I go with her.  Sure, it's a 3 hour drive, and grandmother doesn't speak English.  My French skills are about the level of a 5 year old, they could use the practice!  And I'm not one to turn down the opportunity to see a new place.  So we drove off to Lyon, grandma and I.  

She's one of those gruff exterior, heart of gold type ladies.  I was a little intimidated by her at first, to be honest.  But she turned out to be very patient and willing to wait as I worked through my poor French trying to figure out how to say what I wanted.  We chatted for pretty much the whole trip.  I worked my brain trying to think of how to communicate what I wanted to say, and I got practice with my listening skills, because oh man, she is a fast talker.  And there's nothing like trying to get directions on the phone from my host mom, another fast-talker, and deliver them in French, a language I don't speak well, to someone who doesn't speak English at all to help grow your language skills.  

I was a little unclear as to how the whole weekend was going to play out before I left.  We arrived and met the son and his friends, who turned out to be.. completely normal college kids.  We sat around and chatted and played nintendo for a bit.  (Can I just say at this point, I've never really gotten video games.  Like, I'm talking Mario kart.  What is with all the button pushing?! What's happening over there?!  I'm happy if I've got accelerate and turn both going on, and that's about the extent of my skills.)

As it turned out, the kids were leaving Saturday to go camping and to a concert and wouldn't be back until Sunday, so I basically had a day and a half to myself to wander Lyon. 

But that evening we went to the son's favorite restaurant in Vieux Lyon (the old and interesting part of Lyon, the area between le Rhône and la Saône rivers), called L'Epicerie, that would have been the most hipster of hangouts, except they don't know what hipsters are, and weren't being ironic.  We got tartines, which are basically open faced sandwiches.  But this is France, so you know those little tartines were mind-meltingly delicious.  Slices of crusty bread with broiled cheese (of course cheese) on top, then tomatoes and mozzarella, or beef, or other toppings.  I really don't remember all the options, but they were simple, and delicious.  I wanted to eat everything on the menu.  Curse you, stomach, for running out of space at times like these.

Then we wandered around Vieux Lyon, and goodness it's adorable.  Little cobblestone streets where I don't think cars even go through, old buildings with beautiful architecture, and shops of everything you can imagine.  Dozens of chocolate shops and patisseries.  

I could have spent my entire time there window shopping.

  

The weird.  The random. 

.

There was a miniatures diorama "museum", with a bunch of Hollywood costumes and props out in the lobby.

I saw this classic guy.

And this one.

I think they were authentic...

Saturday I was on my own.  I did a little planning the night before and had a tentative idea of what to visit the next day. First on my list was...

The Jardin de la Tete d'Or.  Which is like Disneyland for a plant lover.  Soo so many varieties, neatly labeled in cute little rows.  Desert arrangements, tropical greenhouses, carnivorous plants.  Have I mentioned how much I love pictures of flowers? Cause I really love pictures of flowers. I think I photographed every variety of flower in that garden.  But I really just took pictures of the flowers I liked.  Can I help it if they picked awesome flowers for their garden?  
Dangerous plants on the loose. . would be a good name for a band.

Judging by all the people running, biking, roller blading, etc, this could also possibly be considered the most beautiful gym in the world.

These are deer, wandering around what looks like a
completely open field

Kids horse cart race track!  Sad I'm not a kid, and
had no one to race

Map of the park.  Yes, there is a decently-sized lake in the middle of it. It's hard to explain the scale of this thing clearly, so let me just say that I spent the first 2 or 3 hours in the lower half of the park before I found this sign.  I then realized that I was only in the lower half of the park, and if I wanted to see the zoo (uh yeah, there's an entire zoo in there) and leave before sundown, I had better stop meandering and act like I had somewhere to be.

So I visited the zoo, gazed at the lake, watched the geese wandering around.  Till the police arrived.

Yeah, that really happened.  I was actually on my way out and saw a police car slowly cruising through the park, lights on and megaphone blaring.  In French, naturally, and I can hardly understand those things in English, so I didn't know what was up.  So I continued walking toward the big iron gates, as a policeman put a big chain and padlock on the other side, and I swear I had a moment of slow motion and felt like I was in a movie as I walked out three steps ahead of him closing and locking up the other gate behind me.  With people inside still.  This story would probably be a lot more interesting if I hadn't left right then, actually.  Sadly, I forgot to check the Lyon police blotter that night, so I don't know what happened there.  But my timing was perfect I guess.  

And I had time to wander Vieux Lyon again, which was so so fun and interesting!  I was planning on taking the stairs up to the Basilica of Notre-Dame on the hill overlooking the city.  We had taken the tram up the day before and the view is amazing, but there was a stairway as well, which I thought would be a fun little hike.  Until it turned out that I was actually exhausted by then, seeing as how it was 5:00, and if I wanted to get home by dinner time, I knew there was no way that hike would be happening.

I took the subway home, got off at my stop, ... and didn't really recognize the street I was on.  Like, at all.  I knew I had gotten off at the right stop, but the entrance and exits to the subway are sometimes in different locations, and can even be a street or two apart. So I wandered up and down the surrounding streets looking for a landmark I recognized.  My phone was dead, of course, because I think it's a rule of the universe that your phone battery must die when when you're lost and need directions.  After about a half an hour of wandering, however, I found the church with the clock tower that I could see from my bedroom window in the apartment.  Saved!  By the church!  The irony was not lost on me!  So I made it home finally after what had turned out to be a pretty fun and eventful day.

This line of the subway has a map of the world on 
it's walls as you ride.  I snapped a picture of Nova Scotia!  
My homeland!

The next day, Sunday, I took the subway to church.  It was a small group there, and it seemed that about half of them were American,  Although I was still pretty lost when the native French speakers were talking, I could completely understand the American's French!  I was pretty excited about that.  Everyone was very friendly, and I chatted with several people before heading home. 


Getting lost, getting exhausted beyond belief, getting proposed to by a guy riding by on a bike, almost getting caught up in international intrigue, .. Such an interesting weekend!   And all is well that ends well.