Hi everyone! It’s time for another translation of a post I wrote in July 2017. Expect many more over the coming days and weeks! God knows I have enough time on my hands, cause covid-19 has hit Ireland just as it has hit almost every other country in the world, and we are on our way to a lockdown. I’ve been working from home those past few days, had to celebrate my birthday in isolation – luckily not in total isolation, though, as my flatmate was there as well – had to stand in line just to get into the supermarket, and am going a bit loopy already. Thankfully I’m already a bit of a weirdo to begin with, so I hope my descent into madness won’t be that bad and/or noticeable. That being said, the signs of mental deterioration are definitely starting to show… Right. Let’s get on with the translation, shall we?

My parents came to visit me a few weeks ago. We drove down to Kerry, a county in the far southwestern part of Ireland (and one of the most beautiful ones, in my opinion, however touristy it might be). Now, you have to realise that, almost as soon as you leave Dublin, the Irish roads start to look more and more like this:

Those little countryside roads are narrow, winding and bumpy, and you don’t have a good view on the rest of the traffic. If you happen to meet an oncoming car – yes, these roads are usually not one-way – one of you will have to swerve to the side to let the other pass. If you need to overtake someone, all I can say is: good luck. Obviously, my mother thoroughly enjoyed this whole situation (*note: this is not at all sarcastic, my mum loves a dangerous road, God knows why) and almost immediately started racing like a true local. Meanwhile, my dad and I desperately tried to keep our Irish breakfasts in our stomachs.

Still, driving on a countryside road has its charms. The surrounding landscape is usually fantastically beautiful, to begin with, and it’s a whole different experience than being on a boring motorway. You’ll also never be alone, cause chances are you will meet at least one of these fellow road-users:

The racing local

Are you being overtaken by a rickety car from the 90s, just before turning into a dangerous bend in the road? That must be the racing local, who doesn’t have time for your Sunday driving antics. Come on, doesn’t everyone know those speed signs are more of a guideline than a rule?

The insecure tourist

You can recognise any tourist by their shiny cars, usually sporting a Dublin number plate. They might sometimes swerve to the wrong side of the road, or try to turn around at the worst possible moment. Chances are, you will fall into this category yourself.

The tractor

If you’re really unlucky, you will get stuck behind a tractor (or two, or three). It’s almost impossible to overtake them without having to fear for your life, so you’ll just have to suck it up and follow them at a snail’s pace, until they finally turn into a field or something.

The designated drunk driver

Because cabs are expensive, and buses are unreliable (not to mention stop driving after 3pm), you’ll often come across cars swerving from side to side during the weekends and evenings. Please don’t be afraid. Most of the time it all goes well.

The old man/woman, a.k.a. Sunday driver

Isn’t really sure where they are going. Sometimes falls asleep behind the wheel.

Sheep – or other livestock and animals

No, it’s not a stereotype. Well, it is, but it’s also true. (That’s how stereotypes work, Fem.) Sometimes, sheep just want to go out for a wander along the road, admire the views, and stop for a little picnic. Just deal with it, okay? You might also see some lonely dogs roaming around, cause dogs are so well-trained in Ireland that they take themselves out for a walk.

The (tour) bus

Full of tourists, and/or locals who need to be dropped off at impossible places. Tour buses are the worst – just when you want to drive past, it will stop, and out spill the American boomers in their socks-and-sandals and fanny packs. (Try not to run them over, I know it can be tempting.) I have a lot of respect for the Irish bus drivers – I’ve seen them carry out the most impossible-seeming manoeuvres, most of the time without putting themselves or anyone else in danger.

A lonely wanderer

Might be a hiker, a lost tourist possibly going by the name of Fem, or an Irish local being let out by their dog.

Hitchhikers

Hitchhikers still exist in rural Ireland, although they are a dying breed. If your car is not too full, feel free to give them a lift. They probably just have to go to a neighbouring village and it is a great way to get the know the locals. (Or end up in the local newspapers. But let’s not go there.)

Cyclists

Or, as my friend B. from Belfast likes to call them – “roadbike wankers”.

Thanks everyone for reading, and I hope you are doing well. The next post might be about a trip I took to Italy, three years ago. I went to Venice, amongst other places, which feels very strange right now. I’m not sure if I will put it up just yet, although it might be nice to think back of the city in better times. See you soon!