The Boutique Hotel
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Travel Blogs from Limerick
Castle day
... Castle was the Caufield Cup winner in 1968. From here we drove to Galway Bay and this lovely B&B, it is now 5.30am (my body clock is out of sync), yesterday evening we went into Kinvarra a little fishing village nearby and had an evening meal at one of the local pubs. Yes we are enjoying ourselves and luckily the girls LIKE castles and medieval history. Some of the photos are a little blurry , I am using my IPhone so sorry in advance ...
And I'm Home
... blog with reflections on the Irish people, mentioning hospitality and the gift of gab and food and rain, but what’s the point? Why clump everyone into general categories for the sake of an interesting blog? I learned one major thing during my time abroad. People are just that, people. Loud, quiet, annoying, funny, awkward, bawdy, reserved, tall, short, heavy, thin, respectful, disrespectful humans on one rotating planet under one sun. I have friends from all corners ...
Everything is 'Grand'
... is green. The trees, the grass, everything is a lush green, and it's beautiful.
One of the biggest differences and advantages I hold as an exchange student is that I get to live with people from all over the world.
I have two roommates from America, one from Austria, one from Korea, one from Ireland, and two from France - and that's just in one house. My whole village is a cluster of many different cultures and people. It's amazing.
Learning ...
Irish 4th of July Celebration on the 8th of July
... heading in the wrong direction. At this point, I felt it would be prudent to hop in a cab and head back to campus. I didn't want to test the accurateness of Limerick's friendly nickname of "Stab City." (we've been told that this is quite an overstatement and this is not like Detroit or Oakland) Lesson learned and my navigational awareness of my area is greatly improved. Glad I experienced it.
I returned home and then slept like a baby, as I desperately needed ...
There Once Was a Man From Limerick . . .
... up here.” My stomach flipped because whenever someone puts forth enough effort to get a hold of you when you are riding a charter bus through the Irish countryside, the news is not normally good.
“Hello?” I croaked into Libby’s cell phone.
“Yes, are you Natalie Gilkison?” The man on the other end of the line asked.
“Yes.” I said.
“We have your bag.” The man said.
...