One of the best things about browsing is you chat to people and they remind you that every country is different. Different customs and different attitudes.
Recently, whilst scouting for someone in Ireland, I was reminded of my one trip. Ireland is lovely and deserves as much time as you can spend there, and the people were terrific fun.
About half way through my trip there, I decided to go walkabout, well busabout at least. So off to Cork Bus station I went without a clue where I was going to end up. I met an american who looked a little dazed. I dont know why it is that I can be in my hometown and never talk to a stranger for weeks, but as soon as you go somewhere suddenly you are the friendliest person on the panic.
And so it was with me and Chuck. (I cant remember if his name was Chuck, it could have been Brad, or Buck maybe... It doesn't matter anyway, he was stressed!) He went to Uni at Berkley which I think is in California (JACK! His name was Jack... no it wasn't) with a guy from Larne in Northern Iereland.
Now this irish guy, who we will call Jerry, told Chuck that if he ever fancied visiting, to just turn up. Well Chuck had obviously been a good boy because his parents were paying for a 3 month backpack across Europe and now he had done Dublin and Cork, he intended to catch a bus up north and try to spend a few days touring round Belfast which is quite nearby.
Thats when I caught up with him. He told me his story and the phone call he had just made.
"Jerry told me I absolutely must come up straight away. It was perfect timing actually, because Jerry's off on holiday tomorrow and they have no-one to look after the dogs!"
My lasting impression about the irish on that trip was the astounding trust that they have in their follow man. Here was an irishman offering his house and all its contents to someone he went to college with 2 years earlier.
In comparisson, a couple years ago my flat was broken into. It was a cellar and ground floor maisonette, and we had the bedroom and lounge downstairs in the cellar, with the kitchen and dining room upstairs. I was downstairs watching a movie in the lounge, when someone broke in through the kitchen window, started to come down the stairs, heard me, went back upstairs and stole my penny jar, and my dads ship in a bottle!
Whats worse is the guy got caught and before sentencing he admitted to 58 other break-ins. I'm pleased that my greasy, horrible flat was filthy enough to leave fingerprints. I'm pleased that all he got from me was £1.37 and a vodka bottle with no vodka.
But I would much rather live in Ireland.
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