Wexford, Indian Food, and Little Red Cars
Wexford is a very small town. I say this not because you can walk from one end to the other in less than 15 minutes, or because the population is roughly 9500 people. I say Wexford is a very small town because this morning a girl in a little red car waved and honked at me as she drove by. This is by no means intended to infer that a certain small town friendliness compelled her to do it. No, I say this is a small town because she was the exact same girl who drove by me last night and shouted out the window, “Nice arse!” as she sped away.
Truthfully I arrived in Wexford a day or so later than planned. I had spent close to a week and a half in Dublin and was preparing to leave when my friends Victoria and Padraic made me an offer I couldn’t refuse: “Wanna come with us tomorrow to Newgrange?” asked Victoria. “It’s an ancient burial structure an hour north of here that predates the building of the Pyramids.”
Padraic followed this by saying, “And then we’re going to Belfast for the night to meet up with my mate Riggsy. You have to meet him Stuart, he’s a BBC radio host and simply one of the best people to know in Belfast.” Before I could answer though I managed to miss pour our friend Traci’s glass, and spill cabernet all over Padraic’s flatmate’s pool table.
Given the possibility for adventure, and the fact that I’d almost ruined a man’s billiard’s room, I had no choice but to agree to go along. And I’m certainly glad I did. Newgrange was incredible and I got some of the best photos I’ve taken yet on this trip. And Belfast, well Belfast was a blast. We ate at what, in my very limited experience, is one of Ireland’s most delicious restaurants, Archana. If you like Indian food and find yourself in Belfast, you must eat here!
After dinner, and a well deserved nap, we partied it up with Riggsy and the locals, and then retired for an even more well deserved night of sleep. I hadn’t realized that I’d not slept more than 5 hours in a night since I’d arrived in Ireland. A week and a half in Dublin will do that to a person.
The next morning we took quite possibly the world’s worst guided tour of Belfast, (Stephen Hawking would have been a more engaging tour guide) and then we zipped back down to Dublin where I picked up my gear, hopped on a bus, and managed to make it down to Wexford just in time to get cat-called by the girl driving by in the little red car.
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