Day 89
December 31, 2021: New Year’s Eve:
Got up very early for morning appointment. Surprisingly, lab results were in, so that was good. Would have to go to the pharmacy later. Appointment went well.
Went back to hostel to pick up bike and let Paddy know that I’d like to stay another night. He agreed. I did a little research last night while talking with the other people in the hostel about where to go in Sligo.
I headed north to see Benbulbin. It’s a distinctive mountain north of Sligo that looks Grand-Canyon-esque, except it’s substantially more green, because moss will grow on anything in Ireland. While hiking up the hill to see it up close, I called Tiffany - a friend from my 2016 study abroad trip to Germany. Asked her how she’s doing. She discussed plans of staying in Germany longer, and that I should come visit her in Luneburg. I plan to. She talked about her board game collection. If that’s not reason enough, I don’t know what is.
Then headed east, following the Glencar valley to Devil’s Chimney waterfall. The waterfall is only active after heavy rainfall, but I suppose I was lucky, since boy did it rain last night. The waterfall is located on private land, but the owners have kindly set up a trail that goes right up to it, for free. I locked my bike, grabbed my bottle, and made the climb up. It didn’t look that bad from the road, but it was substantially more strenuous than I had expected. As in, still just a stroll, but a hard stroll. The waterfall was very cool. The trail led to some very good views of the falls, plus good views of the surrounding valley. The landowners were working near the trail when I passed, and I thanked them for the trail. It’s super cool that they did this. It would drive me nuts having people bother me all the time like that. I guess they didn’t look too bothered.
After Devil’s Chimney, I went to Glencar Falls, just up the road. There was a cafe there where I got my bottles refilled and enjoyed some Black Forest chocolate cake. It unfortunately didn’t have Kirsch, so wasn’t as good as I was hoping for. The falls were way bigger than I had thought they would be. Why wasn’t this the national park Killarney was supposed to be? There was a very short, very commercialized trail leading to the falls. Didn’t take more than five minutes to see them before I had returned to my bike.
The best way back to Sligo from the Glencar valley was pretty much back the way I had come, but the road skirted the mountains a bit more closely to the south. I followed the N16 instead of the N15. In Sligo, I stopped at the pharmacy. Then I decided to go to Strandhill to see if I’d have time to climb the Queen Maeve trail. Queen Maeve’s grave site is located at the top of that hill. The road there led past the original Coney Island, providing good views. I was able to cycle all the way to the trailhead, but would only have about an hour. That wasn’t even close to enough time to summit the hill and come back down. I expect it’d have taken me just over two hours to do that route. It wasn’t just sunset that I was contending with. Rather, I had scheduled to meet David and Jane - the folks I had met the other day at Downpatrick Head - in downtown Sligo for dinner at a place called The Blind Tiger.
I went back to the hostel to put my bike away. I’d have put on clean clothing, except I really don’t have any. The clothing I washed the other day in Westport now smells a little like mildew. Between mildew and body odor, I’d rather go with body odor, because then at least I can’t smell myself. I put on some deodorant though, hoping that would help. Then I set off. I got a message while I was on my way that David and Jane had found a table inside and were waiting for me.
Outside The Blind Tiger, there was a line of people and a kiosk was set up to check covid certs. Big men in black clothing with badges guarded the building. What was I getting myself into? The security guard nearest me waved me over. “I’m sorry sir, but I can’t let you in.” “Why not?” “We’ve got a dress code here. You’ve got work clothes on, and we can’t allow that.” I looked down. My reflective yellow rain jacket was smudged with dirt. “I can take this off. I just wore it here given the forecast.” “No no, look you’ve got boots. And those pants.” “What’s wrong with the pants?” “You’ll jeans and loafers, or something like that. Go home, change, come back. We’ll all still be here when you return.” “That’s ridiculous. You can’t be serious.” “No, I’m afraid I can’t let you in.” “Can I speak to your manager?” “No, I’m in charge here.” “Is there seriously no one else I can speak to?” “No…” I approached the covid cert desk. “Just take my info.” “I’m afraid I can’t do that without their permission.” I turned back to the security guard.” “What exactly do you want me to do? Slip you a 20?” “No, I need you to change. As I said, go home, change.” “I don’t have other clothes I can change into. I’m a cycle tourist, just passing through. I don’t have other shoes. This is it.” He looked me over. “Where you from?” “The US. I’m actually here to meet two people.“ “Where are they from?” “They’re Sligo locals.” “You know what, I’m gonna call them. We can take our business elsewhere. This is absurd.” The security guard changed his demeanor a bit when I mentioned I was here for some locals. “Look, I have jeans in my car. You’re about my height, I can run and get them for you.” I just looked at him incredulously. Somehow, he changed his mind. “Alright. It’s the holidays. You can go in. Just know - next time - there’s a dress code here at The Blind Tiger.” “Ok. Thanks.” I didn’t tell him, but there’s not going to be a next time. And not just because I’m probably not staying in Sligo. If I ever return, I won’t be giving them my business after how I was treated there. And I recommend anyone reading this stay away for the same reasons. Not very blind, are they?
Nevertheless, I was in. I tried to put the experience behind me to enjoy the evening. The atmosphere was much different than how I had imagined it. For a place with such a strict dress code, it was absolutely bonkers inside. Extremely loud music, flashing lights, and darkened rooms with throngs of dancing people. I was led upstairs away from all that to a table where David and Jane sat. They looked very out of place, just like me. They explained that their daughter works in the kitchens here as a cook, and that when they’ve been here before, it hasn’t been anything like this. They figured it was because of New Year’s celebrations combined with the 8 pm covid restrictions, so young people were getting out their energy early. I might be young myself, but I’ve never enjoyed night clubs like these. When talking, we practically had to shout at one another to be heard.
The Blind Tiger is an Asian fusion restaurant of sorts. I ordered my classic Mussaman curry with beef - a Thai classic. While we were waiting for our food, a waitress came around with complementary Prosecco glasses. David didn’t have any, so I took his glass. The food was good, but the atmosphere wasn’t for us. After we finished eating, we decided to leave and go to a pub down the road. They insisted on paying for my meal, which was very kind of them.
At the pub, we sat down with a guy there nicknamed John The Map, since he’s a cartographer. A friend of a friend of Jane and David. John was loquacious, and he talked about all sorts of things. I asked him about his maps. I’ve never met a real-life cartographer. He said he’s done surveys of Cork and of Sligo himself, as well as other cities. His maps are drawn with software on a computer, but he does all the layout manually. He adds in artwork of mermaids and ships at sea, and takes pride in the font and sizing of the text on the map. It has to fit on the roads, or over neighborhoods. After he finalizes the artwork, he takes it to a shop that cuts an inverse image on a plate, and he uses that to make prints at his home office. He numbers, signs, and embosses each print, as he intends them to be collector’s items someday. John complained a bit about Irish tax law, saying that artists are exempt, but printers - specifically printers - are not, unless they make fewer than six prints of each piece. He can’t afford to do that, since each piece takes him hundreds of hours to create. David recommended introducing slight changes to each map every sixth work to get around the law. Hahaha. David explained that everything in Ireland is regulated, but that the Irish are rulebreakers at heart.
John offered to buy everyone another round of Guinness. “In Ireland, it’s tradition that we pay for our guests’ beer. Don’t you complain!” “I’m not complaining!”
After we left the pub, I headed back to the hostel. I went out at midnight when I heard fireworks. I hadn’t expected this, so I ran out onto the street in my socks, careful to step around puddles of water on the sidewalk. I watched fireworks that flew up from the other side of the bridge to the north, and was grateful to be in Sligo on New Year’s. I was also grateful to have met such kindhearted people. Thank you, David and Jane!
