HITCH HIKING (just getting it out there in the open)

so I decided on friday/saturday that because my family out in carraroe was going to dublin for the weekend that I was going to get on a bus and go somewhere. it didn't really matter where, but I decided to call karen and ask her what she recommended. she had just gotten back from the emergency room :( but she was more than happy to talk about ireland. when she starts talking about the time she spent here, she doesn't sound as tired and stressed out. so, she told me all about glencolumcille, up in county donegal, which is the far north-west county.
getting to county donegal is a challenge in and of itself, and it took about five hours to get from galway to donegal city. then I had to wait for one of the two buses that operates on saturday out to glen, as the locals call it. on the bus we passed through all sorts of little towns, and at one point the bus actually couldn't make it between parked cars: it turns out that the whole town, and probably most of the surrounding area as well, was at saturday night mass, and the whole street was packed with cars parked on both sides of the road. there was no way for the bus to get through, and mass had just started, so rather than wait for it to get out, the bus driver backed up for over a kilometer. once he got back to the last little fork in the road he took the other path, but really, I've never seen anything like that....
when we got to glencolumcille I had a bit of a hike to the hostel, which is run by this funny little woman named mary. the building is basically carved out of rock...I don't even know how to describe it. in some places it only had that wobbly tin sheet for a roof, the kind which you see on top of tool sheds. the bedroom was plenty warm, but I'm not sure that the rest of the place was heated. apparently mary calls the place glencolumbchill. after I got there she made a cup of tea and I went up to the common room where I watched the ireland v. france world cup qualifier with other guests of the hostel. there was a german couple on their honeymoon, two young swiss guys on holiday, and an irish guy who had been there for a while. the game was pretty good, even if the final score was 0-0. most irish people agreed that this was a good outcome for the irish, since the french were supposed to be a formidable opponent. the next, and final (for this year), match of the world cup qualifiers is wednesday at 7 against the faroe islands, which is a fascinating place in and of itself, but that's a seperate story.
after the match I went to bed, and after I woke up the next morning I started to walk. mary had given me a handout which had maps of the major buildings and monuments in the area, so I decided to follow the path of columcille, which is marked by standing stones. now, you have to remember that I'm taking a course on columcille, so there is a bit of deeper meaning in this for me. so much so that I tramped up and down hills for bloody hours trying to find all of the stones, some of which are in the middle of farmers fields, so that if you want to see them you have to climb over fences of stone or wire...but it shows your dedication, right? anyway, I found all the stones (saw them from a distance, at the very least), visited an abandoned lookout tower, found some court tombs (which are like 4000 years old), and walked almost all the way to silver strand, which is about 4 km from glen, and as I was walking back a car stopped and the driver asked if I was looking for a lift. well, I wasn't, but the prospect of walking the 3 km back to town in the dark was not especially inviting, especially because my right foot was hurting, so I accepted. francis (?) was a friend of mary, and he was kind enough to drive me to the bottom of the hill on which the hostel is perched. I'm not used to hitching a ride, so I asked f. and he said that it's rather common, especially for elderly people. (I guess it's better than letting them drive?) I decided to talk to mary when I got back to the hostel, since the only bus on mondays leaves at 7.30 am. now, who in their right mind would make the only bus leave that early? when I was talking it over with mary she kept saying, oh sure and you'll have no trouble getting a lift, especially if you only have your one little bag (I just brought my blue backpack).
so this morning I woke up and set out for the first (and probably only) episode of hitch-hiking in my life. I went into town and started along the road to donegal, and wasn't more than 100 m from the edge of town (uphill the whole way) when a car stopped for my rather timid thumb. the driver was a nice young woman from australia whose husband is from glen, and who is living here for a year. she was able to drive me as far as killybegs, where I got a ride with an older irish couple, who drove me a bit farther, to bruckles. then I hit a dry spell, so I figured, when in doubt, start walking. finally an suv stopped. the driver turned out to be from barrington hills, illinois, and he had lived in san fran and l.a., so the sc jacket earned its keep. he must have done alright for himself, because he was probably in his mid-thirties and he was retired. he was only going to give me a lift to mountcharles, but he drove me all the way to donegal town, which was an extra 9 km. needless to say, I was extremely grateful, and when I was thanking him profusely he said that he hoped that if one of his daughters was travelling that someone would help her out. Hurrah for nice people!!! I got to donegal an hour and a half before the bus was leaving, so I was able to sit down and have a nice lunch (a hot wrap, salad, and slice of apple pie). then I began another long bus ride, this one taking about 4 hours, then I ran to catch the number five and finally got home to my wonderful apartment.
I know that I'm undoubtedly making light of something which most people would find very serious, as I found out later this evening. I went to gaelic football practice, and when I mentioned that I had hitch-hiked to tina, with whom I walk to practice, she almost flipped out. when irish people get excited, they tend to talk extremely quickly, and considering how fast the talk to begin with, this can make them difficult to understand; in the ensuing conversation I only caught snatches of "so dangerous", "by yourself!" and other similar phrases. I'm sure that many other, more coherent people will be expressing the same sentiments themselves, but we all need to take a deep breath and think about the circumstances. first of all, 7.30 in the morning is too bloody early for anything. second, having checked with the locals I ascertained that such things are done on a fairly regular basis. third, I wasn't in dublin, cork, limerick, galway, or any other major urban center. I know that it would be naive to say that nothing bad happens in the country side, but the chances of anything bad happening there truly are lower. finally, I have no intention of hitching again. ever. I'm definitely not one to tempt fate.
having made all of that very clear, I had a very nice weekend, donegal was beautiful, and I can't wait to do a bit more travelling (minus the hitch-hiking).