St. Patrick's day, I'll be honest, was a bit of a bust. When initially planning my adventure so many months ago the idea to be in Ireland for St Patricks day was at the top of the list. I guess in my heart of hearts I'd sort of hyped it up like most people did NYE 2000 - there was such a massive build up and in the end it was just another New Years Eve (actually I still feel like we're going to find a whole community of people living underground who are in hiding from the Y2K bug, it would be a delayed climax but totally worth it). Anyway, when I fantasised about how I would spend my St Patrick's day there were a lot more new friends in the equation but in the end the only people I spoke to all day were Tom, the 70+ year old drunk who tried to hit on me at the first pub I went to, and a really cute Irish guy that I met at the pizza shop on my way home who's name I can't remember and that annoys me because he was really nice. I know what some of you are thinking, "Liana! why didn't you take him home?" I did have a fancy apartment and believe me the thought did cross my mind, but not for the reasons you're thinking. Truth was it was nice just to have a conversation with someone, I'd been alone for a few days at this point and because of the lively music and the increasing intoxication levels of all the people I encountered at the three pubs I visited, there wasn't much of a chance to meet anyone new - so when I met this guy at the pizza shop who wasn't drunk, was holding an interesting and pleasant conversation, and happened to be super cute the thought did cross my mind to ask whether or not he'd like to come back to my place to eat our respective pizzas and continue our conversation... although no variation of that question that I could think of at the time didn't sound like a sleazy pick-up line. So I trundled home at 9:30pm, small margarita in tow and curled up in the sofa dent I had made over the previous 24 hours, only this time I was huddled under the giant king sized doona I ripped off my bed. Junk food, trashy TV and a big arse doona, it doesn't matter where you are it's a winning trifecta. Not the night I'd planned, but I did see the parade and drank my pint of Guinness so not all was lost.

Sill feeling at only about 85% I awoke the following morning with a hopeful thought that the letter from my mum containing my licence had arrived and that I could put the last week of tummy bugs and deflated dreams behind me by hiring a car and getting the hell out of Galway... (please note that I actually really like Galway but on this particular morning I was ready to put it behind me). The letter had not arrived. f***. It's not that I couldn't spend another night, it's just that I'd already seen everything I wanted to and doing anything else in this town was just a waste of money at this point. So I did a quick search for accommodation options, packed up my gorgeous apartment and lugged all my things about 1.5km's up the street to the Travel Lodge. Things started to pick up again from here, the guy at the travel lodge gave me a small discount on my room because I told him I only use third party booking websites like Hostelworld.com to find accommodation options but I always book directly with the provider to save having to pay unnecessary fees to someone else - I thought he was going to jump the counter and kiss me. Nothing much to report for the rest of that day, I went for a big walk and had a late lunch at a pub, ended up having a 'servo dinner' to try and save some cash and had an early night.

The following day I walked the few k's into town to check the status of my letter and when she handed it to me I almost sung a note like a choir of angels, although I thought better of it so as to not scare the poor girl. I took a cab back to the travel lodge and had the driver wait while I checked out so that he could then drop me at the car hire place, there was no more time to waste. My snazzy little car drives like a dream, although these new six speed manuals drive a little too much like automatics as far as I'm concerned, it's like the motion of changing gears is just to give you something to do but I actually just find it annoying. Give me a heavy clutch and an engine I can actually hear working any day. Cruising out of Galway I set my sights on Limerick which has recently been titled Ireland's first National City of Culture and I figured would have a lot to offer. I wasn't wrong but it didn't have the small town feel that I was craving so after a long walk through the city taking photos and a nice cafe lunch I decided to continue on to Dingle, the town that is also the most Western part of Europe - or so they like to boast. I'd booked a cheap hostel and shared a three bed room with a really nice Italian girl who was back in Ireland for her eighth time, she loves it and I could see why. The drive from Limerick to Dingle had some of the most spectacular scenery I've seen yet - seriously I almost veered off the road a few times from utter amazement. Sometimes the travel brochures get it wrong and the reality hardly comes close but this corner of Ireland is even better in real life than any picture could capture. I actually passed one house that was so perfectly positioned on the apex of a hill with an extraordinary view of a sweeping valley that was populated with only the occasional farmhouse and divided in neat little blocks by the very traditional Irish dry stone walls, and not far in the distance the valley opened up into a cove where the ocean lapped in and the sun sets on it's horizon... I contemplated cold calling into the property for the sole reason of shaking the hand of the owner of the house, well purchased, well positioned and well built - I now have a dream.

I thought that the drive in would leave Dingle a bit behind on the wow factor scale but to my delight the tiny seaside town with its crazy micro-climate and wacky street configuration did not disappoint. I realise that by now you're probably thinking "wow this chick is easy to please" as I seem to boast praise about every place that I've been and while I am approaching each destination with the rose coloured glasses of a kid in a candy store, I really can't stress enough that even without my over enthusiasm I can confidently challenge anyone to visit Ireland and not be blown away by the scenic perfection. Even though the wind blew a gale and kept me up for a good part of the night the weather was kind to me on my following day out and after a lateish breakfast I set off on a 2 hour stroll around Dingle taking my usual tourist snaps and checking out all the local stores of which I found one that sold the most exquisite leather handbags and various other leather products. I guess this is the most frustrating part of long term travel, while you really want to support the local vendors and purchase high quality, locally made wares it just isn't practical and that can be sad.... I did however really need a belt, and it's always best to buy quality don't you think?!

A little further down the road I passed the local bike hire/ adventure store and saw the sign in the window for mountain trail rides, "yes let's" we thought to ourself (still lacking extended conversation with anyone I have resorted to talking and singing to myself in the car - this habit, while amusing when alone, does manage to render one slightly nuts when they continue the practise in public), so we, I, decided to add a bit of adventure to my day and booked a 1:30pm ride up and over a nearby mountain that overlooked the whole town and stretch of water beyond. All mounted up on my giant mare named Silver, the tour guide and horse trainer led me into the small training yard and told me to have a ride around to get a feel for it. 'Using both your heels at the same time give her a good kick in the sides to get her to move', Silver had been described to me as the gentle giant of the group but at this point she was the gentle statue. I have very little experience with horses and while I appreciate that she was a great deal bigger and stronger than me I really didn't like repeatedly kicking her in the guts to try and get her to move, to be honest if some lump of a chick jumped on my back and did the same I don't think I'd just be standing there and taking it like she did. Eventually the trainer came back with a riding crop and thankfully all it took to get my stone frozen horse to move was a little tap behind the shoulder blade - Silver and I were, I think, two of a kind and it was nice that we understood each other... sort of. The ride was easy going and I didn't even freak out when we broke into a trot, I did however discover that my knees aren't entirely healed from my skiing expedition and by the end of the hour they were burning and the stabbing pains like razor blades through the cartilage was hard to ignore. Apart from the, again, spectacular views, the one thing I should recount from our ride was that on our return ride down the mountain the micro-climate of Dingle that I mentioned earlier showed us what it was made of and the sunny to overcast to windy day changed again in a matter of seconds. As the wind picked up the heavens opened and we were, for only a few minutes, caught in the most spectacularly drenching horizontal rain storm. Oh yes, horizontal was the right adjective, the wind was so strong that the rain came over the mountain and literally hit us sideways, I've never seen anything like it and my Irish host and two new American friends thought I was a nut job for absolutely loving it. Back at the stables I said my goodbyes to Silver and the girls I went riding with, and after a sneaky little wardrobe change into dry clothes in the car park I was on my way following the road signs to Killarney.

It was at this time that it all made sense, I never understood with all the complaints you hear from Irish people about their terrible weather and dreary days how they still managed to be some of the happiest people I've ever met, but now I know the secret, It's because of all the rainbows. Back home, depending on where you live it can be an incredibly rare thing to see a rainbow, we just don't have the right conditions, and yet as I drove out of Dingle with the sea to my right and the endless rolling green hills to my left and within a timeframe of about 15 minutes I witnessed eight different rainbows. There was a full one, a half one, a double one then one I was almost directly under and one perfect one in the distance that just made me smile. With all that magic and so many potential pots of gold in wait, how could you not be forever happy...?