7 days in Ireland: Death Ferry Part 2 and the Cliffs of Moher

A helicopter wasn’t in my budget. A native husband wasn’t appearing in the mist.

I had to get back on the boat.

What I didn’t mention in my last post was that a boat ride to view the Cliffs of Moher from the ocean was included in our day trip package. This meant the death ferry would be taking the scenic route on the way back from the Aran Islands. However, our bus driver had mentioned offhand that we had the option of taking a different ferry straight back to the dock.

When my beloved boat worker (nautical term) saw how affected we were by the ride over, he strongly advised that we not do the Cliffs boat tour. The water would likely be even rougher and the ride even longer. Jackie and I didn’t need to discuss it. Obviously we would not be getting on that boat.

So when we arrived at the Inis Oirr dock, we waited in the wimp line for a much bigger ferry as the rest of our bus bravely waited for the Cliffs boat.

By then the rain had passed so we were able to sit on the top deck of the ferry with a prime view of the horizon.

I sat down and silently stared at that horizon.

When the boat swayed dramatically. When it seemed impossible that we wouldn’t topple into the angry ocean. When small children cried. When giant crashing waves splashed my face. I stared.

This wasn’t the first time it had helped me.

When I walk the streets of Philadelphia and a group of men stare and whistle.

When I walk the streets of Antigua, Guatemala and a man asks, “how much?”

When I walk the streets of San Cristóbal de las Casas, Mexico and a man walks up and touches me.

When I’m a woman existing in this world. A woman of color.

I stare at the horizon. I don’t stop staring.

I stare like my life depends on it. Because, well, it might.

Ferry from Aran Islands


And this time, it saved me again.

My stomach was unaffected by the boat (which we later learned was nicknamed “the rocker” ). I don’t fully understand the science behind it, but looking at the horizon worked like a charm.


I was even able to appreciate the views of the Cliffs of Moher from afar.


Once back on land, we had 90 minutes to kill before the rest of our boat returned, so we occupied our time by taking pictures around the parking lot. But this was no Walmart Supercenter.IMG_1094IMG_1091IMG_1101IMG_1103IMG_1114IMG_1117IMG_1120

Once the other passengers returned, we headed to the Cliffs of Moher. The Cliffs are the top attraction in Ireland and that was obvious that day. Squealing tourists, young and old, swarmed the cliffs, selfie sticks in hand. It wasn’t quite the spiritual experiences I’d anticipated.


The evening fog also obscured most of the view.

IMG_1137But as we learned in Ireland: if you don’t like the weather (or the tourists) wait 5 minutes. A few minutes into our visit, it began to rain and most people scampered for cover. The fog cleared and we were granted a few moments of peaceful reflection.

cliffs of mohercliffs of mohercliffs of mohercliffs of moherIMG_1171

The views were spectacular – ancient rugged cliffs jutting out of the endless sea. I imagine on a different day, we would’ve lingered much longer. But as the rain cleared and the sun emerged, I was ready to get back on the bus and head home.

It had been a very, very, long day.




7 days in Ireland: Death Ferry to the Aran Islands

I almost moved to the Aran Islands.

Let’s back up. A lot of people recommended that we visit them. Friends, friends of friends, people on the internet.

The Aran Islands are a set of 3 islands located in Galway Bay on the western coast of Ireland, with a total population of 1200 Irish-speaking residents. (Fun fact: Irish is a language, also referred to as Gaelic)

I’m all about a rustic island experience, so before I even touched down on Irish soil I knew that it was one thing we had to do. Because we had limited time, we signed up to do a combination day trip of the Aran Islands and the Cliffs of Moher (the other must-do).

The day of the trip we awoke early, got caffeinated, then made our way to the coach.IMG_0482IMG_0493The weather forecast for the day was a bit iffy – rain was projected in the afternoon. But the scenic drive to the dock was clear and sunny, allowing us to stop for a photo-op before reaching our destination. Ireland really is one of the most beautiful countries I’ve seen.IMG_0792

On the drive up, the driver asked several times if anyone suffered from seasickness. There were a few murmured yeses. He gave some simple age-old advice for avoiding it: stand or sit outside on the deck and stare at something on the horizon.

I’ve been on many boats while traveling and my only experience of (mild) seasickness was on a cruise ship when I was 12. Otherwise, I’ve had no issues. There was a particularly traumatic speedboat ride from Belize to Guatemala. (Though It’s possible that I was too busy coming to terms with my own mortality to feel sick).  I figured that after that experience I was immune.


For our tour, we’d take a ferry to Inis Oirr (or, Inisheer) the smallest of the islands, and spend 2 hours doing whatever we liked. When we walked down to the dock, there was some confusion about which boat we were supposed to board. As we stood in the long line, I remarked, casually “Well at least it’s not raining”.

It immediately began raining.  No, downpouring. We were the cold, wet paired-up animals, and the ferry was Noah’s ark.  But disconcertingly much smaller. Suddenly the packable rain boots that I’d decided at the last-minute to remove from my bag didn’t seem so heavy. As we waited, shivering in the pelting rain, two of the girls from our bus began pointing at another boat and running towards it. We followed suit.

Once we made it on the correct boat, the potential to be drenched to the bone was enough of a deterrent that I went inside, along with the majority of the passengers.



Every time I tried to take a picture I almost flew across the boat


Off we went. I stood confidently in the center of the cabin, gripping a pole while not so subtly gawking at one of the workers. As the boat surged forward into the churning sea, we made eye contact and he gave me a wistful smile. I later identified the look on his face.

It was pity.

Rain pounded the sea. The sea pounded the boat. The boat pounded the deepest caverns of my soul. I did not know I could turn a shade of green. I thought that was only in cartoons. The boat swayed violently, leaving me clinging to the pole while my stomach clung to that morning’s breakfast.

Then the retching began. All around us, people began to moan and puke.

“Hey could you grab me a sick bag, just in case”, I asked the worker, smiling through extreme nausea. I may have twirled my hair.  I had nothing to lose – I was definitely going to die.

Do not throw up in front of this beautiful man, I thought, repeatedly.

Is this green woman really flirting with me? he thought, probably.

I locked eyes with Jackie who looked like she’d seen a ghost. Which, it had become clear, we would all become very soon. I casually asked him if they’d ever decided not to run the ferry. You know to avoid tourist deaths and all.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, “when it’s much worse than this.”

“IT GETS WORSE THAN THIS?!?  Casual had fled the building. There was that smile of his again. He assured us that this extreme turbulence would only last for another 20 minutes.  And he was right. We rode that terrifying ocean coaster for 20 more stomach plummeting minutes. Then it was over. The sea calmed and he recommended that anyone who was feeling ill go outside for the rest of the journey. I left my beloved and lurched toward the deck.  The blast of cool fresh air gave me a sense of relief.  It didn’t last.


What I soon learned was that even when the boat has steadied and you’ve been returned to land, seasickness can stick with you like a barnacle on a ferry of death. I’ve thankfully never been pregnant but I imagine it’s what a combination of morning sickness and a post-wedding hangover would feel like. Hopefully not a feeling you’re familiar with.




I’d had a vision of exploring this quaint island on a rented bike, waving at the smiling locals as Enya songs played.

Instead I immediately stumbled toward the nearest pub (260 residents, 3 pubs) to order that miracle elixir Ginger ale. We only had 2 hours allotted on the island and it took the first 30 to be able to order. Every person ahead of us seemed to order elaborate hot chocolate concoctions for their screaming children as I sat slumped over the bar groaning as my stomach churned with agitation.

Hell is real. I’ve eaten there.

I knew then that I would have to move to this island. I would learn Irish and marry the man selling fudge on the road. I would get really into horses and survive the cold rainy winters with pints of Guinness and my hot Irish husband to keep me warm. I would never get back on that boat. I would die there.


After downing two ginger ales, a cider and some chicken fingers (known as chicken goujons in Ireland), I started to feel a little better. We spent the last hour wandering around the island, which was as I’d imagined: quaint and beautiful.

A labyrinth of time worn stone walls held together by nothing but ingenuity.  Deep green fields scattered with wildflowers. A pony dozing in a small meadow.IMG_0960IMG_0966IMG_0971IMG_0973IMG_0975IMG_0976IMG_0979

A sandy beach edged by large pieces of limestone. Sweeping views of the cobalt hued sea that had tried to destroy us.  A 15th century castle peeking out through grey skies.


A  warning sign that still makes me scratch my head. Is there only one dolphin? He sounds pretty intense.IMG_1034

Inis Oirr is an enchanting place. I just wish time limitations and a near death experience hadn’t prevented me from fully enjoying it.


Unfortunately our time was up. Turned out the Fudge man was already married and I was out of options.

We had to get back on the $%@& boat.

To be continued.

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7 days in Ireland: Galway


Every time I mentioned I’d be visiting Ireland, people said “you must visit Galway.” When Irish people in Dublin inquired about our next destination, they all nodded excitedly with approval. Everyone loves Galway.

We loved Galway.

And Galway loved us.


Which is why I have very few pictures of our time in the city. I was too busy falling in love, again, and again.

With the cobblestone streets, with the food, with the…oh who am I kidding. My neck got a workout from all the double takes.

After 2 days there, we stopped in a pub for a pint and started chatting with the (gorgeous) bartender.


He dazzled us with his life story and his knowledge about Galway.

(And, in what was the most peak Irish moment of our trip, he mentioned he’d gone to his doctor for persistent stomach issues.  His doctor’s medical advice? Stop drinking Budweiser.  Not, mind you, that he stop drinking, or, I don’t know, eat more vegetables? Just that he stop drinking Budweiser. All those chemicals, he explained. And of course, he made a swift recovery. Questionable medical system aside, I can not overstate how much I loved Ireland)

He asked us what we’d done in Galway so far.  It’d been 48 hours after all.

Um. We began naming bars and restaurants.

“Have you seen the docks”, he asked, confused.

“The Spanish arch?”

*Other places I can’t remember because I was lost in his eyes.*


What we’d seen were the works of art from multiple nations strolling through the city. What we’d done was had 2 amazing nights out with locals and other visitors who’d fast become friends.


The greatest part of Ireland is it’s people and Galway was no exception.  It was a true gem because of it’s friendly, welcoming locals.

So yes, go to Galway. Bring a rain coat. Find a true local pub. Listen to live Irish music. Knock back some ciders. Chat with locals. You just might fall in love with this tiny drizzly city and the people who call it home.





7 days in Ireland: Dublin to Galway by train

The journey by train from Dublin to Galway offers a nice visual introduction to the countryside of Ireland. The scenery that flashed by varied from suburban townhomes to sprawling lush fields. There are so many vivid shades of greens in the country but trying to capture it all from a speeding train was mostly unsuccessful. Also cows. So many cows.



Things to know:

  • Passengers can book specific train seats in advance, like an airplane. When you get on the train check the small digital screen above each window to make sure the seat is not reserved.
  • The train ride from Galway to Dublin was about 3 hours.  Taking one of the bus services is a bit quicker and cheaper but not as comfortable.
  • If there was a quiet car, we didn’t find it. Bring headphones.
  • There is however, a food/drink service person that rolls around so you can drink your way through the loud phone conversation happening next to you.

Dublin to Galway by train