Road march in Cork

I wasn’t sure what the hot, tingling stuff was on my face…but it seemed oddly familar.

Oh wait – it was the sun! Out shining beautiful in a blue, yes not gray, sky. I was actually hot in my blue jeans for the first time in Ireland as I did a little roadmarch with my rucksack from the bus terminal in Cork to what I think is my friend’s flat. I got up early this morning and almost broke my legs because I couldnt get out of my crappy hostel fast enough. I trekked down the busy streets of Dublin to the main bus terminal and joined a huge queue to buy my ticket to Cork. It was 12:05 and where I looked at the ticket the acne-marked boy behind the window handed to me, it read “Cork Departing: 12:00pm”

“oh crap”

I ran through the station and found the gate to the Cork bus, and caught the French driver as he was closing the cargo hold underneath the bus. He took my backpack with a snort and I was the last person to board the full bus. By full, I mean that every luxurious, padded seat was taken. A “full” bus in thailand, if there is such a thing, means that there are no seats, laps, aisle, ladder rungs, or rooftop real estate still available. I ended up sitting next to an old man that was friendly but smelled like an onion factory explosion and so we talked. Interestingly, as we labored through the 4 hour journey, he would make the Catholic cross on his chest as we passed various churches, landmarks, and busy intersections. I was soon a convert and was making it too when I saw the way the driver came through the loads of roundabouts along the way! He would swear at random intervals in French at drivers, but he got us to Cork safe and sound around 17:00.

Which is where I sit now. lost.

All I have is an addy, no mobile number for a friend of a friend that I met in Thailand, and so my mission is to find their flat before it gets dark and I inadvertently wander down the wrong alley. They barely label street names in Ireland so it was no shock that the doors did not have numbers or names either. I walked up and down the ghost town of a street which I thought was hers, sending out some exploratory knocks on doors, and either no one was home or they were afraid I had a backpack full of chopped up body parts. And so, I backtracked back to the city center, a good 1.5 miles with my pack to find an internet cafe and see if I can locate her mobile phone number. Given a choice between trekking up the same street with this thing on my back, or sitting here a moment and ranting in my blog, I chose the lazy option. This is partialy my fault, I am a couple of days early.

Along the way through the gorgeous green countryside, we passed several ancient castles, standing cold and defiant against the beautiful fields around them. Some were under siege by tourists pushing baby strollers and flooding around the ramparts like ants. Cork seems to be a very nice town, I think I will like it here (if I can find a bed). It is the perfect size, seems to have a nightlife, there are friendly people, a university, and some old landmarks. Also, nearby is Blarney castle which legend has it will give me the gift of gab after I drop a few euros to kiss the famous stone. Pay to put my mouth on something that millions of lips have touched over the last few centuries? hmmmmm…..

Well the sun is getting lazy and starting to droop on me – time to do my new job. Cubicle be damned!

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No Responses to “Road march in Cork”



  1. where r u ? we r waiting for u, , i send you again ours phone number, call us !! sorry i did not checked the email today …

  2. How DARE you! How dare you slander the almighty cubicle of the damned! The cubicle is righteous! The cubicle is the bringer of money! It doesn’t matter that it sucks your soul dry and drains your life energy until you feel like you’ve been drained by a vampire. Money, man! Money! I mean, honestly, where would you rather be? There? Or sitting on your butt doing healh check crap and configuring firewalls in Kentucky? You have SO sold out! Taking adventure over corporate life? I’m ashamed of you!

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