A Final Farewell and Off I Go

My last evening and day with Tina and Jessica was two nights ago.  We went out on our last night together to grab a drink and listen to some Irish Music being played in the pubs.  I always have to laugh cause one of these days I am going to look my age.  Here is how the conversation with the bartender went:

Me:  Can I please have the Bulmers Cider?
Bartender (BT):  How old are you?
Me:  (as I am laughing) I'm 29.
BT:  (with a shocked look on his face) Really?  You really do not look that old.
Me:  (as I am laughing) I get that a lot.  What is the drinking age here?
BT:  I don't want to tell you. (BT goes to fill my glass for me and comes back)
Me:  No, really....what is the drinking age here?
BT:  You have to be 18 to order a drink.

Awesome....I officially still look like I am in high school when I am nearly 30!  Let me clarify too that neither Tina or Jessica even got questioned about their age.  At least this time in the airports I have not gotten asked if I am an unaccompanied minor or where my parents are.

Our final day together we headed over to explore the old jail in the city of Dublin.  This was very interesting because it not only tells the story of what the jail was used for, but also much of the political struggle that occured throughout Ireland and with Britian.  It gave us a better understanding of Ireland and all that occured with their history as none of us really knew.

Then it was back to the hostel to collect my backpack and for Jessica and Tina to recheck in.  Unfortunately for them they had to check out, put their stuff in the luggage storage room, and then recheck in to change rooms as the final night there was only 2 of them and not 3 of us.  Now, the one thing that I have failed to mention in any of my posts is that in nearly every hostel we have been in, our rooms have been at least 3 stories up, which really is 4 as the street level is actually the ground floor and the 1st level is what we would consider the 2nd level.  We have had to trudge up and down stairs, which was easier for me to do with a back pack slung on my back than for them with suitcases.  Our last hostel was no diffierent and was probably the most stairs we had to climb.  If hostels have elevators, it is a luxury and definately not the norm.  So we had to drag all the stuff down stairs and their room was one floor lower that they were checking into, so luckily it was not as bad as the first time.  They walked me to my bus stop, we said our goodbyes and they were off to lunch, while I was off to the airport in Dublin.

I boarded my flight and truly think I was the only American on there.  I was sitting next to this young coupule who could not have been older than 25 tops.  They were heading home to Lithuania to visit family for 2 weeks as they now live in Dublin.  I don't think the wife spoke any English, but the husband did speak some, although it was pretty broken.  He seemed very confused as to why I would be going to Lithuania to travel around.  We chatted for a while before the landing with pauses as the husband translated to the wife and then we arrived.  I followed the crowd to Passport Control where I handed mine over.  The Customs Officer who took my passport ran it through the system and gave me a stare down.  Didn't crack a smile at all.  Once I got what I am assuming was the "OK" sign from the computer, as it beeped, he stamped my passport and slide it back to me.  I happily said "Thanks" with a smile and I continued to get the stare down as I proceeded through.  I seem to be a hit with all the Customs people on this trip.  He did not speak to me once and I am used to at least getting asked in every country where I am staying, why I am visiting, and for how long....nothing this time.

I grabbed my bag and headed off to find an ATM cause I needed some cash to be able to get to my hostel.  I jumped time zones there and it was 2 hours later than Ireland time, so by the time I landed it was about 10:30pm at night.  I hate landing and arriving new places in the dark, but unfortunately, I had no other option.  So I grabbed some cash and headed outside the airport to make my way into town.  There is a bus stop, but I was not sure if any would be coming at that time.  I did some homework to find out what the average taxi fare should cost me to my hostel from the airport, which really isn't that much (roughly $7-9).  I went over to find out about the taxi, the first one quoted me 2 1/2x that amount.  I said no, I'd wait for a bus.  Another taxi driver who was trying to arrange for the first guy to take me said that he would take me for less, which was still too much.  I said no that I would wait for the bus.  He kept haggling with me, advising me that I didn't know the city or where I was going.  I told him he was absolutely right I didn't know this city, but I had figured it out in other cities and would figure it out here.  As I was walking off toward the bus stand, a third taxi driver called me over and asked what I was willing to pay.  I said my price (which was on the lower end), he said higher, we met in the middle and I had my ride to my hostel.  I made sure he was a legitimate taxi driver before I got in and made sure he had a # and his badge displayed, which he did, for those of you out there who consistently worry about me.  It feels like Costa Rica all over again, haggling with taxi drivers for lower prices to make sure that I am not ridiculously over charged as I am clearly not from here.  Always a fun time, but all part of the experience of travelling and experiencing new things!  Once I arrived and checked in, I flopped into bed as I was exhausted.  Planes always seem to make me tired.