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Travel Blogs from Portadown
"I don't want to go to Belfast, I want to go to Ireland!" were the words which my friend uttered to me whilst planning the trip. It's time for her to catch the travel bug.
It's the same friend who asked a supermarket assistant about turnips and swedes. In Cornwall people call swedes, turnips. Then she asked "so how do you make it orange when it's in a mash?" His advice was to add carrots!!!
Once the location of Belfast had been established the two of us were ...
... and Botanic garden area, Molly May's, a student hangout. Then a walk in the gardens and through a couple of stunning glass houses, One called the tropical ravine, with a deep trench through the middle, like a ravine. Lots of International students, and quite a cosmopolitan feel, in the gardens. We took a tour around the Ulster Museum , next to the Botanic gardens, an ultra modern museum space with some fascinating displays including a history ...
... He had some really funny stories and some great friends. We stayed for a little, then headed back to Sid's house and had some Carlsburg beers. Our friend Jame stopped by which was lovely. It was great seeing a familiar face before my return to the states.
I soon found myself tired, and headed off to bed for a whole two hours till it was time to end my wonderful trip in the morning. I drifted off to sleep quickly, but did not want to leave Ireland when I woke ...
Thankfully the station attendant was very understanding and put up with our stupid questions like “Is the diesel bio-diesel?” and “We’ve put €20.01 in the car, do we have to pay the extra 1c?”
After our adventure in the petrol station we were on the road again and heading north.
The drive was interesting as we covered some diverse countryside – from ...
... with a vindaloo (controversially) rated as five chillis plus on the menu of a city centre curry house.
Spend a quiet Saturday regretting Friday's indulgence...
the Sunday morning the day before the run, play 90 minutes of football
as lone striker in a 4-3-1 formation, as your team of nine men get
buried 12-0. Sprint off the pitch immediately at the full time whistle
to drive like a maniac to the airport for a flight departing in less