Wednesday, November 22, 2006 Strange and Creepy When you spend time on the road you gain insight into yourself, the places you visit, and you get, more or less, a greater knowledge of how world around you works. For example, my travels in Ireland made me realize that I belong

Saturday, November 11th, 2006 Tropical Fucking Paradise ***Three days before I began this trip I got a fortune cookie that read, ‘œYou are heading for a land of sunshine.’ I thought it was funny and prophetic because I was about to go to Costa Rica, ‘œtropical paradise’. I am currently

Step into a world of adventure with the San Francisco Beer Passport. There’s no better way to explore San Francisco than to literally drink it in. This passport is amazing! Each one contains 27 coupons to buy one beer, get a second beer FREE at 27 of the finest locally

I tore into Northern Ireland’s capital like a mad man recently released from military service. My stretch of recuperation was done and I planned on letting this city do what it wished to me. The days are long here and I continuously wander among the marvelous architecture just trying to

Letterkenny, County Donegal; last stop on a blitzkrieg three day tour of the Republic of Ireland’s wild and untamed northwest. Three days prior, I pulled out of Galway in a brand new rent-a-car, pristine, like a new born baby in swaddling cloths. “Extra insurance?” the devil behind the car hire

I am glowing in Galway. I am in tip-top shape baby, hip, happening – there is something going on here. You don’t just walk down Shop Street, you glide. Galway has an energy that you can feel and you know, you know, that there is no place like it in

The Irish countryside rips past me as I push The Beast harder. The kilometres per hour are clocking up; 90, 100, 120. I have no clue what this means in miles, but right now, I am King of the Road, I mean, I am F-L-Y-I-N-G, man. The Beast is really

What a weird day. I arrived back at Baltimore after my night on Cape Clear, just in time to miss my bus, so instead of waiting four hours for the next one, I took some initiative and decided to thumb it to Skibbereen. It was about a half hour before

I’ve found that trying to leave cities like Dublin and Cork is a lot like trying to leave the mafia.Every time I attempt it, they GRAB me and pull me back in. I’ve somehow landed myself in Cork three times in less than two weeks, and for some reason, each