3 day tour of the west- Day One

The regret I was feeling in the evening wasn’t gone by the morning as i looked at the state of the shower and giant rain cloud hanging over the city. However I kept telling myself this can only get better, you’re leaving the city and heading for the country side. Rolling hills of green, cute boys with cute Irish accents and quaint little villages, once you get moving everything will look better, everything will be all ok…

Day 1: Galway and Connemara – the tour begins

At 8 in the morning I boarded a giant green bus with a leprechaun on the side and made myself some new friends, Australians of course 2 girls from Adelaide and a boy from Sydney. We where by far the youngest on the bus, this however didn’t bother me as much as it seemed to bother the others. I think they were expecting a crowd of young people all ready to get boozed. Any way we trundled out of the city towards Galway with god damn Irish music playing. Now something you all need to be aware of is I have a small bladder and I hate needing to pee, I find it very distressing when I can’t find a toilet. So what happened next may have shaped my opinion of the tour guide for the rest of the trip. I needed to go to the toilet but we were told that it wouldn’t be long between stops. Well an hour or so had gone pass I was beginning to get uncomfortable but was able to distract myself from thinking about it. Then a kindly American man over heard us all discussing the need to go to the toilet and went asked the driver when we would next be stopping, “15 to 20 minutes before we stop” (imagine think Irish accent here). So I take a deep breath and focus on the scenery that is whining by and briefly I am distracted by the speed the bus is going around very sharp corners and I am fearing slightly for my life. 30 minutes go past, still haven’t stopped and we have passed many many service stations. The pressure is beginning to build to an unbearable point, I am sweating with the discomfort, I am consumed by the pain I am to considering the consequences of wetting my pants vs asking the guide to pull over to let me pee in an open field in front of the entire bus, at this point it seems like a viable option. The thought of just releasing my bladder, oh sweet sweet release. 40 minutes have gone past and still no stopping the girls and I are yelling from the back of the bus as we speed past more service stations. We all need to pee. The entire bus needs to pee and I just want to cry I am at breaking point it’s been nearly an hour. The distress is mounting, I am certain that I am about to pass out which would mean I would lose all control and wet myself any way. When sweet relief we pull into a servo and I run. I am first through the doors to the toilet. It has a sign on it that says broken. I don’t care. It’s the most satisfying, longest pee I can remember. So from that moment on I spent most of the time dehydrated as I was to scared to drink in case there were no toilet stops for hours.

So I missed most of the country side for the first alf of the day as all I could focus on was my bladder, the scenery after that was beautiful, high mountains and green as far as the eye could see. We visited a house that a man had built for his wife who died shortly after it was built in Egypt from something a-rather. It was surrounded by a lake and sweeping mountains. I would defiantly approve of any man who would want to build me a house like this.



The evening was spent in Galway and didn’t get off to the greatest start with the guide screwing up our rooms and me discovering that I was staying in hostels not B&Bs like I thought. But I was rolling with the punches, this is an adventure right things go wrong and you just pick yourself up and move on forward. The problem was then all 4 of us were hyped up, stressed, dehydrated and ready for a drink. We had only known each other a few hours but it felt like years after the ordeal of the day. All these factors combined with the fact it was July fourth lead to a drunken evening in Galway.


Tales of love and woe were shared. The Sydney boy hence forth known as lonely boy was running away from a broken relationship and heart. I decided that the money he used for his impromptu trip to Europe was the money he was saving to buy his ex an engagement ring. As the tour went on more and more information came out and I became very weary of this young lad. He was social awkward not close with his family and had some temper issues, the girls felt the same as me and we began to keep a slight distance. Anyway back to the evening at hand lonely boy got lucky with a girl from another Paddy Wagon tour called Tia Maria and one of the girls bought home an Irish lad by the name of David Finigin who turned out to be quiet handy in helping us locate our hostel later that evening as non of us could remember its name not one of my finest moments. I did however like all good Australian head for higher ground on the dance floor and climb up on a speaker, who has a dance floor with no podium. Now this part of the story sounds the most out rages and ridiculous but it’s true, cross my heart. I was in an Irish pub with a girl with no arms and I was holding her drink up to her mouth for her to drink, in my world thinking I was being extremely helpful but really probably coming across as rude and condescending, for this I do apologies but man I wouldn’t even be able to write a joke with that beginning….


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