cead mile failte

it's been nine days, twice as many helpings of blood pudding at breakfast, thrice as many pints, and an undisclosable sum of euros lost at the snooker table to some snotty dubliners. and i dont say that just because they won. it's not that i actually have any right to criticize, to take sides, and yet i already feel an allegiance to the pioneer west, to the pink-faced men in wet wool coats and worn jeans they were wearing when their fathers won £100 in the local lotto back in '62. plus, their lambs are cuter. and i can say that with a fair amount of authority because we've nearly hit a number of different sheep in several counties, driving at break-neck/irish speed in the wrong lane of the one-lane roads through the bog.

overall, i still dont know how to drive, or how to get anywhere, and i only understand about a third of what's said, even in english, but i feel like i've been here for quite some time. hopefully by the weekend, i will be one of the masses, paying out the arse for a room smaller than the old peugot 2-seat hatchback i'm buying from a farmer for more than a house in malibu is worth.

slan agaibh, and god bless.