Ireland: Day 3
True confessions: I'm typing all these posts at the same time and trying to make it look like I did one each day. I have an over-inflated sense of the importance of my own blog.
Today is Clifden day. Clifden is the capitol of Connemara, the wild and rocky area on Ireland's far western shore. It's my favorite part of the country, and I think Clifden is my favorite town. It's sandwiched between the mountains and the beach, with stunning views every which way. It's a touristy little place, but on weekend nights young people come out of the woodwork and the craic is mighty. (Craic is a word I'm allowed to use sparingly while in Ireland. It means fun of the chatting and drinking variety.)
Clifden has the perfect amount of pubs: not so many that you can't decide where to go, but not so few that you get bored if it's quiet. We ended up staying at our first stop, E.J. Kings, where the rugby team from Connemara and the rugby team from Belfast were having a post-game session. An old drunk man told me I was a mighty woman altogether, and they played Irish songs we knew and everybody sang. When the pubs closed, we went to the town's one disco, along with everyone else in town. We are not the dancing sort, but we busted a serious groove and sweated out the gallons of beer we'd drunk in the pub scrum. We gladly paid 10 Euro each for the pleasure of doing it, too. The early closing time for pubs here always leaves us scrambling to keep the night going.
We stopped at the chipper on the way home, just like all of the Irish kids do, and slept like the dead until breakfast. Gotta rest up for the big finale in Galway.