Blog

After getting almost lost literally in the streets of Liverpool and figuratively in my ego of having a good sense of orientation, I got a fright at the train station as my train wasn’t on the board. Don’t panic sir, this is a commuter train, they go from the lower level. You see, the United Kingdom doesn’t have one rail company managing everything. Instead, each small region have their own company, and it’s a mess. Connections work, but it can be confusing at times. So on I go in train number seven of the trip, all the way to the terminus in Chester.

I only have a few minutes in the station, as I embark on train no. 8. It is a ride along the dramatic North coast of Wales. On one side, the beach and the Sea of Ireland, on the other side some rocky hills and villages. I held my little camera for the 1.5 h of the journey, thinking about all that lovely timelapse I will get. It’s only much later that I will discover that somehow only a few frames were saved. Grrrr… Well, at least I had the good surprise of finding myself just in front of the famous Llanfairpwgwyngyll sign. I didn’t even know it was on my route! The train station sign has the long form of the name, which is considered the second longest place name in the World after a New Zealand hill. Funnily enough, I read about this very hill just today on Graham Hughes’ Odyssey Expedition blog. Small World, eh?

The funny thing is that I was on the island of Great Britain, and the train took me across the tiny island of Anglesey, and onto the tinier Holy Island. To take a boat to island of Ireland.

At Holyhead, the ferry passenger terminal is in the continuity of the train station, in one long building, which was very convenient. After the boarding formalities, we are taken on a short bus ride that got swallowed by the leviathan that is our ferry (I couldn’t catch her name). I don’t think I’ve been on a boat that big since we went to the United Kingdom in 1997 when I was 5. Sadly, there is no open deck for us cheap passenger, so I had to do with the dirty window. It might be the furthest I’ve ever been to dry land actually, depending on both trips to the United Kingdom in 1996 and 1997.

It is already night-time (I forgot to mention yesterday, but since entering the United Kingdom, I’m one hour behind France) when we disembark in Dublin port.

Hello Republic of Ireland!

I was impatient, and decided to not wait for the bus. What a mistake! Pedestrians need to do huge detours inside the gigantic port, and it took me an hour of walking against the wind (but at least it’s not the tempest-level of wind of Liverpool) to reach the tram, which is the first of the trip, and ninth rail transport overall. And also the first I forgot to film in. Damn.

I directly check in at the hostel, which is a very vibrant and lively place. I jump in the fire of a delicious spicy chicken curry, and play a card game with three Portuguese students, whose names I’ve miserably failed to remember. Sorry guys!

Overall a very long, exciting and tiring fourth day. I’m writing this enjoying an overpriced pint of Guiness. Let’s see tomorrow night what the Irish pubs have to offer!