To my oldest and bestest, Kali . . .

. . . I wish you a very Happy Birthday!

As I sit on the floor of this hostel in Bath, I am trying to find the proper words to tell you all about my oldest and dearest friend, Kalena. People gravitate towards her as if pulled by magnetic forcefield and those of you who know her understand why. Back in college, whenever we'd go out dancing, she only had to smile, and people rallied to be near her. Being one of her friends, it was wonderful, we were always destined to meet someone new, make a new friend, or have an adventure like none other. Ally and I called her 'The Enigma;' there was just something about Kali that drew people in. Kalena is one of the most beautiful, selfless and amazing person I have ever met, but if you'd ever try to tell her that, she'd just brush it off. That is just her way, and its part of her charm. She doesn't much like to call attention to herself (well, unless its on the dance floor). But today, its her birthday. Attention must be paid. She's just going to have to deal.

This is the 17th year I have thought of Kalena on December 2nd, and Even through the years when we were far apart, or had lost touch, 'K's Bday' could always be found on my calendar, in my planner, or in my phone. 17 years of friendship is a feat at any age, and I have known a life with Kalena in it almost twice as long as not. We're lucky enough to be in England on her birthday this year, and will likely enjoy a celebratory pint or two (or four) in London this evening. We've been gone 2 weeks on the trip of a lifetime, and trip we have both dreamed about for years. Though I never thought it possible, this trip has made me appreciate and love my dear friend even more. 17 years makes you think you know someone, but they never fail to surprise...

She is an amazing wealth of travel knowledge, and seems to retain everything she reads about a place. Rather than wanting to visit famous tourist attractions, she prefers sights off the beaten path, and likes to sit and imagine what it must have been like in its prime. She is the most organized person I have ever met. She can talk to sheep, they don't listen real well, but still, she talks to sheep. She can pack and be ready to go faster than anyone I have ever met. AND still look cute. This is a feat not mastered by many. Her lyric writing has only improved with age, as has her singing. She holds her ground and threatens to punch Liverpool drunks when they loom too close. I thought I had seen all of her faces, and yet, a new face, mole face, has been born on this trip. She makes the best soft boiled eggs in the world. THE BEST. She will bust out Punjabi dancing in a club in Dublin, and rock it. She draws funny pictures of people on maps. She gets frightened by scary noises outside the boat, and imagines the worst, but is prepared to fight her way out. And if there were ever a need for a penguin to play Lisele in a remake of “The Sound of Music,” the part would undoubtedly be hers.

Happy Birthday, my dear friend. I look forward to many many more years of memories, fun, and surprises. I love you!

XOXO Megs

ICE-O-Lation

The Ballad of Anderton Marina

We're as drunk as a skunk in a moat, its nice
We're as drunk as skunk in our boat, trapped in ice.
She's been working on her accent, its posh and so fine,
before we known it, with Harry she'll dine...
Beneath the ice, it was eels we sought,
a zing zing boom and out they shot...
We call this our mole hole, because its so dark
then we open the blinds, to shout, HELLO OH HARK!
To our neighbors we smile, and spread our good cheer
and then we walk home and drink our 10 beers.
They may think we're crazy, as we're rocking the boat
and breaking in the ice, in our natural formed moat
Tomorrow, oh dears, we climb the rail for Bath,
cutting our boat trip so short...  but oh, must we hath!
Being stuck in the ice, was fun for a while,
But eventually we found, it took a bottle to smile.
And so we set forth on a new escapade
to Bath then to London, we make our parade.

Ennis Evenings and Dublin Days

For Thanksgiving, we went into Ennis (15 kilometers from our cottage) for an evening of music.  We were not disappointed.  Not only did we befriend the greatest bartender ever (Lackey), but we were witness to the most fantastic session of music.

After only a few hours of sleep, we packed up Midge and made our way up to Dublin.  Once arriving, we took a quick cat nap and made our way out into Temple Bar.  It's the "cultural" burough of the city, and quite lively in the evening and early morning hours.  We found a great little place for dinner and then, with full bellies, made our way to find more music.  We ended up in a place so appropriately named The Temple Bar.  It had, like, 8 separate rooms, all with their own bars, some were outside with heat lamps, some were cozy with tables, and some were made for standing and shouting the lyrics to some chintzy bar song.  It was here that we met one of the more interesting characters from this trip.  He really wanted to chat with us because he's not allowed into the States due to a small run in with the law in the '70s.  This "run in" was apparently a smuggling of 250 machine guns into Northern Ireland.  No joke.  We've tried googling him, but with no luck.  Was he full of it?  Quite possibly.


We were walking up the street a little later on our way to a pub closer to our condo when we ran into a group of men.  I don't remember what the line was...something along the lines of "How do you feel about a pub crawl?  It's Lads Night but we want you to join."  How do you say "no" to an offer like that?  So, they toured us around and told us great stories.  We ended the evening dancing into the wee hours of the morning.  We walked (or roamed since we were lost) home during a thunderstorm, and woke up to snow!

Today we experienced Dublin in daylight and happened upon a 150,000 person rally.  It was really actually inspiring.  It was in front of the Post Office (which is pock marked with bullet holes from the Easter Rising of 1916) and the topic was the threatened economy, a topic that hits fairly close to home.  We felt transported back in time, and felt honored to see such passion from such peaceful people.

Tonight, we sail for Liverpool.  The crossing is about 8 hours, and we'll wake up on English soil.  We will find our way to the boat in the morning...and next you hear from us, we'll be nautical veterans.  Hopefully...we've learned new disturbing facts about the eels (things like how they don't have jaws and just latch onto fleshy surfaces).

Well, if you have sheep and she has sheep, how do you know which sheeps are yours and which sheeps are hers?

Turns out...you spray paint them. The sheep of the Dingle peninsula are all shades of red, green, purple, blue, red & blue, green & purple, and on and on. We discovered this by a conversation we had with a local shepherd who then provided us one of the coolest experiences we could have wished for. More about that later though...I have much to catch you up on.

After we last wrote, we had all intention of doing a 26 kilometer walk through the Burren. The Burren is a pretty desolate area of Ireland. Almost all of the limestone underlayer is exposed from soil erosion over millions of years, and has left the land looking like a lunar landscape. However, on our way to the starting point of the walk loop, we were distracted by a road sign just barely visible in the magical morning mist pointing to Dysert O’Dea castle. Go? Well, ok. Let’s. We made a quick lefthand turn and wound around down a very small lane. The castle viewing area was closed for the season, unfortunately, however there was supposed to be a 4 mile walk that took you on a tour of some 14 field monuments surrounding the castle. We looked for the trail, but leprechauns got there before us and hid it. Boo. Instead, after thoroughly scouring the castle, we walked back up the lane to “Midge” (the car) and asked a kindly gentleman we found along the way if we could walk down another nearby lane. The mist had lifted by now and h e, of course, graciously waved us on and told us we could find a church, high cross, and holy well down the lane. Sure enough, at the end of the lane, we traversed a rock wall and found the monuments. We meandered around several fields, explored another church in ruins, and a high cross, shouted down a well (it wasn’t deep enough for echoes), and looped back up towards the car.

Realizing we’d spent a good portion of our day wandering random fields, we decided that we weren’t going to beeline for the walking point, but instead enjoy a slower ramble (“slower ramble” really means dodge numerous gravel trucks and livestock transporters on tiny one lane roads) through the Burren and see some of the pre-historic sights along the way.

The first thing we came upon was a stone fort. The walls were built about 8 feet high and the people supposedly lived inside these forts for shelter. Not a bad idea. You could see all surrounding hillsides from the fort. I can’t say I’d want to be inside at the time of attack though. It was closed for season, but we just jumped the fence and climbed a few treacherous rock walls to get inside.

After the stone fort we went on just a little bit further up the road and found the Poulnabrone Dolman. This recognizable monument is one that dates back to 4000 BC. The time is really unthinkable when you stand there in front of it. It was a burial chamber (some 33 bodies were found inside when excavated), however, whether they were originally buried here, or moved here is unknown. Megs and I sat on the surrounding limestone rocks for some time and concocted numerous stories of those who lived here.

We continued driving up around the peninsula, through towns with sing-song names like Ballyvaughn and Fanore. We stopped in Doolin for a pint, hoping to find some music and perhaps a fireplace to warm our cold toes. We found the pint, and a fireplace. However, we also found the person who has since so aptly been named “Mary Fecker”. Now, Mary was something else. She was the barkeep at Gus O’Conners, where our weary feet and thirst led us. And....she did NOT like us. Honestly, the first and only unfriendly person we’ve encountered. We seriously sat at the bar for 25 minutes after we’d finished our drinks without any acknowledgement. We made eye contact, we tried to talk to her as she passed us with her head down, looking the other way, we fussed with coins on the counter to draw attention. Finally, a gentlemen by the fire struck up conversation with us and suddenly she noticed we were there. We could only leave Doolin too quickly.

Back to the cottage via Ennistimon, we picked up some provisions at the super market and, exhausted, fell into bed with whiskey warmed tummies. We have been blessed with beautiful weather and such a wonderful place to call home. The next day would only bring more adventures...

Over to you, Megs...

Many of the locals looked at us like we were crazy when they asked where we were off to on Wednesday. We must have heard “All the way to Dingle? Today?” fifteen times. And yet, off to Dingle we went. We’ve discovered that Ireland’s a little like Seattle that way; “All the way to Dingle” is a little like a Seattlelite exclaiming “All the way to Redmond.” Armed with three weathered pages that had fallen out of a well loved Rick Steve’s guidebook, we were ready to explore this western most peninsula of Ireland. Rick had told us there were some 500,000 sheep on this little peninsula, and we were determined to count them all. After a quick lunch (and beer) stop, we began our sheep counting amidst the ‘Hills of 100 Sheeps’. We lost count somewhere around 1,673 sheep. We’ll just have to take Rick’s word for that one.

One of our first stops on the peninsula was at the faery forts. Anything Irish with the word faery in it immediately has our attention. As we looked out over the Atlantic, we wondered who these forts protected the Irish people from, it seemed unlikely invaders would be approaching from the sea, but all the same, these forts have stood the test of time and are a testament to the Irish’s resourcefulness, fortitude and superstitions - they are called faery forts because they are believed to be enchanted by faeries - which is why they still stand strong. Kali was extremely excited our next stop - the beehive huts. From below, these stone igloos are hard to spot, you can’t tell the difference between a stone fence, a hut and a pile of rocks. After parking Midge along the water, we set out up the hill, dodging sheep poop and brightly colored rams, who just chewed on their grass and looked at us as if to say, “damn tourists.” We scoured the hillside, climbing further and further, a look of disappointment coming across our faces. We had thought there would be many of these huts, and were saddened to have only seen the one near the road. Turning down the hill, we began noticing them everywhere - little groupings of 2-3 huts together; all the roofs have crumbled or caved in, but the walls still stand. Its hard to imagine what it must have been like to spend winters in these small huts, surrounded by sheep.


As we went went to pull away after the beehive huts, our curiosity got the better of us, and thank the baby jesus for that. The man in wellies who appeared to be waiting for his sheep was doing just that. He was nice enough to answer our questions about the spray painted sheep. Then he unloaded his little border collie from the back his van and looked out over the water, and asked us if we wanted to help. Like little kids at Christmas, we could barely contain our excitement. Our job wasn’t huge, and could probably have been handled by the quick working dogs, but still, we helped. We helped herd sheep. In Ireland. As the sun set over the Atlantic. And then he told us we’d make good farmers. Oh, how I adore old Irish farmers. It was nice of him to indulge the American girls on their holiday. Still, it was an experience I will never forget. As the sheep lined up waiting for direction, and the collies shot out and around the herd, listening to unspoken commands of the men, it was as though we had taken steps back in time and were a part of something so much bigger than us.
Later, we stumbled upon a gorgeous beach, watched surfers take a wave or two, and marveled at what an amazing country this is. The coastal drive took us along a portion of land where the potato fields which rotted during the famine remain untouched. The vertical furrows were an eery reminder of the thousands of lives lost back in 1846, the land a dark orangish red, stark in comparison to the vibrant green surrounding it. On the Dingle peninsula alone, the population was once 60,000 people, post famine the number hovers around 10,000. The countryside is littered with the remains of homes, and many of the towns we past through had more remains of home than homes that are currently lived it. The Dingle loop took us to another site of abbey remains, the home of the lead singer of the Cranberries (LOVE), an oratory (where road markers displaying a basic cross and a monk confused us - we set off across a field, searching for this monk’s trail, but were unable to find it), and back over the hill to the heart of Dingle Town. We felt as though we had earned ourselves a pint and a bite, so we pulled into town. Murphy’s Pub offered cider, Smithwicks, fish and chips for Kali and seafood chowder for me. We left Dingle Town warm and stuffed to the thicket; gave one last dolphin call to Fungi (the town’s infamous cetacean) and headed back to the cottage.

We chose to stay closer to home on Thursday and headed to Limerick, and the River Shannon. After days of 4000 year old forts, huts, and tombs, the architecture in this quaint city was dramatically different. St. John’s Castle, St. John’s Cathedral, St. Mary’s Cathedral and the perfect arched bridges provided miles of walking, and a new view of Ireland. We sat in the market sipping coffee as Kalena drew likenesses of the locals selling their wares on our colorful street map. There is much history to be had in Limerick, where the Lord of Ireland (St. John) lived in the 1600’s. We spent time imagining fleets invading on this small river, and wars being fought between the Irish and English towns. It was here we made this little video for you, with the castle and the River Shannon in the background. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone at home! Disclaimer: It was cold. Kalena’s brain was slow and Megan couldn’t get a word in edgewise. We are usually much more eloquent. Thanks.





There are so many little things like that have piqued our interest - little things about the way we are living here that we want to tell you about. The electrical outlets, coal fires, the various road signs make us laugh so hard we almost cry, how we have washed our clothes twice - well, three times - now because we can’t figure out how to make the dryer portion work, things like this that are making this experience all the more fun and memorable. More on those little things will be coming soon, but...

One thing we feel must be mentioned now - we are very curious about this, and want your input on it... does anyone know what this box and sign mean? Our thoughts range from “Don’t put your crying baby in the box” to “This is a safe haven for you to abandon your crying baby” to “Beware: Potato bugs live here.” We are open to all comments, ideas and suggestions - the funnier the better. It should probably be mentioned that this box is located by a bridge, its fairly large (definitely big enough for a baby or two OR a few hundred potato bugs), there are no openings, and the box was locked. Thanks much! XOXO.

Turn right on the road that further down turns left. By the old ash tree, well, it's not there anymore. It was cut down, but it used to be there. You'll know. Turn right there, then go backwards.

Well, we've arrived in Clare.  At  our cottage.  Its very remote, so our postings are going to be sporadic for the next little bit.  Internet is hard to come by, we are sitting in the lobby of the condo reception, 30 km from our cottage, on a golf course, on an Irish computer (with a funny keyboard) writing this for you. 

We made a video tour of our cottage so you could get an idea of where we are.  Enjoy!
 

We arrived here after a short drive down from Galway.  We drove through the town of Ennis no less than four times, pretty much going in a circle the entire time.  Luckily, we found a friendly bloke and he set us straight on the path to Tulla.  After settling in at the cottage, and a lovely cup of coffee with Ger, we had a plan for the night.  The condo association had a bus (of sorts) that would pick us up and take us to a local pub for traditional Irish music and fare.  We were a bit surprised to find that the owner of the pub was our chaffeuer for the evening.  After a delicious dinner of Guinness Beef Stew and Bangers & Mash, we sat and partook in an enjoyable evening of music and craic.  We made friends with two older gentleman (Seamus and Peter) who enjoyed us so much, they said they wanted to join us on the boat "just for the craic".  Best compliment ever.

Gary, the pub owner, disappeared after a bit and it turns out the bartender was given the end of night task of driving us home.  No bother for us.  We spent the evening talking with the locals about how they remove stones from the fences so the ponies can make it over during the fox hunts, about how they bale their hay, and several rounds of "this is ____, our most eligible bachelor".  My mom was right.  The Irish are full of it.  However, THE NICEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD.  No joke.  They wave to you when you are going the wrong way on the street, and I think every single person we've come across has asked us how our holiday is going.

Armed with maps, we set of for the Cliffs of Moher on Monday. We drove through LaHinch, the Irish surfing town, which looked a bit like any coastal town in California, only much colder.  We were lucky is was a gorgeous day, and not too cold, because the view over the cliffs was absolutely "awre inspiring."  Kalena wanted to hop a fence to peer out over the edge, but wasn't willing to get her shoes muddy.  After some time in the Cliffs of Moher exhibition (we were right...  there WAS a corpse eating eel, we have pictures!), and some native dancing on the virtual reality cliff experience, we were ready to head to Doolin and then off to the high crosses at Kilfenora.  Doolin is known for its traditional music scene, but it seemed pretty quiet, being a Monday, and not late in the day.  We may have to venture back later this week...  Kilfenora offered a somber graveyard set on hill.  The High Crosses were beacons back in the day when Kilfenora was originally founded in 1152. 

Back at the cottage, we made a coal fire, Guinness beef stew and had a low key night.  Driving on the road here is scary enough, neither one of us wants to attempt to traverse them in the dark, let alone after a pint. We hope to go back to the pub, Pepper's, later this week for more music, this time of the dancing variety.  Today we are off to wander Blackhead Loop, search for leprechauns (its magical out today) and see the Burren. 

Kalena & Megan

Well, I took a stroll down the ole long walk of the day, I ay I ay...

Overlooking Quay Street

There are so many things we’d like to say about yesterday....  but the one that is ringing in our ears is the fire alarm, that went off at the hostel in the wee hours of the morning.  Yay.  Well, not really.  Plus, we were so exhausted we didn’t bother to get out of bed,  We looked at each other, Kalena suggested we could jump out the window if things got bad, and we went back to sleep.  Or tried to.  We have a cute little private hostel with its own bathroom, overlooking an equally adorable pedestrian street.  well, its adorable during daylight - it morphs into an outdoor club at night. Despite that, we had a great night over pub grub, pints and walking through Galway.  

We stumbled upon a little street fair with a Christmas theme - lots of international food (it seems wrong to see a mexican food stand in Ireland, but oh well), local crazies, and things to buy.  We spent more time just wandering around the city - there were lots fof little hole in the wall pubs we wanted to venture into, but it had been a long day (or days at this point), so we headed back to the hostel relatively early at 10pm.  

But, prior to all this fun in Galway, we had had a very long, very fun day.  It started with our departure from SeaTac.  We exchanged gifts over bloody mary’s, and attempted a video blog, but are running into some trouble with it.  We will try again and post as soon as possible.  Megan and I played numerous rounds of InFlight Trivia (of which she won the majority) and then we settled in with a couple glasses of free wine (thank you international flights!) to watch some movies and fall asleep.  And sleep came...for some.  Kalena got maybe an hour total of good shut eye.  Between Megan’s bedhead hair and Kalena’s bloodshot eyes...we were a sight/fright.

We eventually made it to Dublin where we picked up our midget car (it’s smaller than a twin bed).  And the driving commenced.  With practically no issue, we made it out of Dublin and onto the M6 for our cross country journey.  We stopped along the way in Athelone to see King John’s Castle.  We don’t know who King John is, nor did we find his castle, but we did enjoy driving through the quaint little town.  What can we say about our first glimpses of this country? Heaven...with rock walls and sheep.  And the fattest ponies we’ve ever seen.  It truly is beautiful - from the shape of the trees to the simple architecture of the buildings.

We are heading out of Galway soon. Today’s adventure includes our first one lane roads, country side, and small towns.  We are heading towards Ennis and then onto find our cottage.  We are looking forward to an excursion into Tulla (4k from the cottage) for some grocery shopping and to stake out our favorite local pub.  The next few days will begin our real adventures - chasing leprechauns, hunting down a fox hunt, and riding pony carts through the barren Aran Islands.

So, with no further delay, we are off.  That’s all folks.

Cascade Cocktails,Dreams and Mile High Marys....

Like the true sister cats we are, we bought each other siscattymoon presents.... and when we exchanged the gifts over bloody mary's at the airport, we discovered, that in complete sister fashion... we had purchased each other the exact same thing. So now, we are proud owners of matching silver friendship necklaces. Twinsies. Bracelet buddies. We had about 2.2 seconds of embarrassment about it, and we're over it. We're awesome.

Now, these are not just any old necklaces. There is a story behind them, one which we shall share with you now.... In Celtic Spiritual tradition, it is believed that the soul radiates all about the physical body, what some refer to as an aura. When you connect with another person and become completely open and trusting with that individual, your two souls begin to flow together. Should such a deep bond be formed, it is said you have found your Anam Cara or soul friend. Soul friends are WAY better than soul mates. This we know to be true.


So, we attempted to video blog for you all...  only we got cut off in the middle.   Also, this was our first attempt at video blogging...  so bear with us, we are still a bit camera shy...  it only gets better!  

Slainte!

Chippie Wiki Wiki

We're read and reread every book we own on Ireland. We've spent hours pouring over maps and routes. We talk about Galway, the Burren, Cliffs of Moher, Inishmore, Doolin, Macgillycuddy's Reeks, Kilcock, Ballsbridge; places we can't wait to visit, and places that have names that just make us dissolve into fits of giggles. We call each other when Rick Steves has an Irish special on PBS and watch it 'together' over the phone. Almost every sentence we speak starts with "Ohmygodwe'regoingtoIreland....", spoken so quickly, it all comes out in a single breath. We've probably spent too much money on clothes, but at least we'll look good. We make up sayings, like 'Chippie Wiki Wiki,' which loosely translates into 'fish & chips really fast' when you combine Irish and Hawaiian slang (Hawairish?) - this also brings on the giggles. We countdown the days... and there are only 10 left!

This trip to Ireland is a big deal. For all sorts of reasons. For me, I actually debated permanently moving to Ireland 2 years ago. I was ready to make a change, and knew I had to move away from Spokane. There were two places I considered moving to: Ireland and Seattle. Seattle of course made more sense; I have family here, old friends, and I had a job waiting for me. And so I made the prudent choice, and packed all my belongings, the black and white doglet and moved to Kirkland. There is still a BIG part of me that wishes I had thrown caution into the wind and moved to Ireland. I have skills that make me employable throughout the world; I can build a Guinness with the best of them, and make friends with a rock. I pictured getting a job waiting tables, making coffee or slinging beers in the evening, and spending my days finishing the book I started writing a few years ago, but never quite find the time to finish. That was my Irish dream - the "if I could do anything in the world right now" dream.

I find the other reason this trip is so special kind of funny actually. Well, funny, but also sentimental. When we first started dreaming about taking a vacation, we spoke of Paris, Venice, Cinque Terra, Munich. We whispered about classic art, sculptures, and fountains made for wishing on pennies. We talked about quaint cobblestone streets lined with small cafes serving gelato and espresso. We brought up Ireland, but brushed it aside, both of us remarking that we were saving for our respective honeymoons. Well, honeymoon, shamoneymoon. We don't need to wait for men to take the trip of a lifetime. The time to live is now. We're going to Ireland. I'm coining this our Sistercatmoon. Sadly, this came to me the other morning, when I was... Oh, I hate to admit this, but for the sake of this story, I need to... watching Bride Wars. More accurately, I was watching Bride Wars and crying. Big, sloppy, emotional tears. The lines said during the closing scene of the movie struck a cord with me, and I will share them with you all now....

"Sometimes in life there really are bonds formed that can never be broken. Sometimes you really can find that one person who will stand by you no matter what. Maybe you'll find it in a spouse and celebrate it with your dream wedding, but theres also the chance that the one person you can count on for a lifetime, the one person who knows you sometimes better than you know yourself is the same person who's been standing beside you all along."

Such true words. And perfect, I think, to use when describing my friendship with my bestie, Kalena. So, with that explained, I think our Sistercatmoon is going to be the best one ever.... 8 days!

Enjoy craic, we shall.

Craic = The Art of Conversation

I've been feeling a little bit "off" lately, and not quite my normal, social, bubbly self.  I think I can partially credit this to some of the changes coming my way.  Sometimes, it just takes me a little while to adjust.  I think you can all relate.

But, off or not off, I made a commitment to come out of my shell in preparation for this trip.  Afterall, I simply cannot be that shy, sullen blonde girl, slowly sipping her half drunk beer in the corner of  O'Conners, or Kennedys, or some such aptly named establishment.  I must....I Must...I MUST be ME - conversing with locals, making friends with my brethren, finding some charming old man with a handsome son (and swoon-worthy accent) who wants to show me how he herds sheep...or harvests peat...or drives his pony & trap.  And the half drunk beer?  Nonsense.  Bartender, please...one more drink.  (Yes, I just inserted a little Dave Matthews Band pun.  Sorry.  No, I shan't apologize.  YOU are the one choosing to read this, afterall.  Know your author.)

Here's the thing:  Megs and I will have NO problem with this.  In my heart of hearts, I know this.  The only problem will be that we have a humor that is all our own.  We have a history of making words/phrases up, and then using them as if they make ANY SENSE AT ALL.  Some examples from the past:

Homojo - our "sense", if you will, of one another's thoughts, feelings, emotions
The eagle has landed. - Code for a certain someone we fancied in college.  There were many more phrases.
Angerland - Ireland.  Not cause it's angry...just...ummm...Megs?
mwuuuaaaahhhhh - Dinosaur speak.  We seriously used to talk in baby dinosaur speak.  Like twins.
Finger-worthy - A man worthy of family consideration. (After an absinthe drink, I somehow had an epiphany that a family can only have as many members as you have fingers on a hand.  So you want to pick the people who take up those fingers wisely.  Makes absolutely no sense)

*I recognize this seems completely retarded.  These things just happen over 18 years of friendship.

And finally...

Be Not Eel Food.

The story goes something like this:

"_________", Kalena taunted.
"Oh, yeah? Well, I'll feed you to the eels," shot back Megan with vengeance.
"I AM NOT EEL FOOD!" shouted Kalena.

Long story, eh?  Explanation:  We have started using the phrase "I am not eel food" when we feel we are being treated unfairly, to remind us of our worth...and I think it reminds us how much we value one another.  We know that, no matter what, we are stuck with each other for life.  It's just the way it's going to be.

I think it could catch on!  Ireland is the perfect place to test it out.  We'll start it with the craic.

Be not eel food, my friends.  I love you.

Screaming eels & faerie ponies.

I am not afraid of much.  Spiders…love them.  Dark, creaky forests…sounds peaceful.  Sharks…the closer I can get, the better.

However.  There are two things (and only two) in this world that scare the bejeezus out of me.  Ghosts…and…water snakes.  Why do I bore you with my fears?  Because I will be facing them both…in 22 days.  (Also, I apologize for the excessive use of the period.  I write how I talk.)

It is time to tell you about THE TRIP.  It is the stuff dreams are made of.

So, yes.  We are going to Ireland.  From November 19-27, we will be driving our little matchbox rental all over the magical isle.  Homebased in County Clare, our little cottage shall provide us warmth from the wood fireplace after long, rainy days traversing the limestone Burren, cozy couches to curl upon after guiding a pony and trap across the Aran Islands, a kitchen and full dining room from which we can host a Thanksgiving meal for our newly found Irish mates, and two bedrooms to dream away in after gaping in awe at the Cliffs of Moher.  The story goes that a group of faerie ponies threw themselves over the cliffs in the times of yore.  Ponies?  Faeries?  One of nature’s greatest creations?  Count us in.  We are pretty much smack dab right in the middle of the country, making it easy to take a trip up to Dublin if we so choose, go south to the Dingle Peninsula and have a Guinness with Bono, and have morning walks along quiet one lane roads in the middle of the country side.  Oh, and County Clare is known as the home of traditional Irish music.  Spontaneous jam sessions break out in the pubs regularly.  Bring your fiddle, Meggie.  Pubs…keeping Megan and Kalena entertained since 2002.

After this most amazing of weeks, we are returning the midget car to Dublin and hopping on a RyanAir flight (Hello!  8 Euros to fly?!  Yes please!) to Manchester.  Upon arrival, we will make our way to Anderton Marina where we will pick up our next mode of transportation/lodging (November 27-3).  A canal boat.  Narrowboat.  Small canals were carved into the English countryside in the medieval times to transport goods into the villages.  Over time, these fell out of use as industry and technology surpassed the slow moving barges that traversed these waterways.  They have been resurrected and now are home to one of England’s most popular holiday pastimes.  Boat rentals on the canal consist of one VERY long (60 foot), VERY skinny (7 foot) floating barrel of fun.    

The boat is steel hulled and tops out at about 4 mph.  Good thing since they basically just hand it over and set you loose.  Yes, you read that right.  We are responsible for driving this thing.  And drive it we shall.  Captain Megan and First Mate Kalena will explore England from a totally new angle, cruising quietly through beautiful countryside and villages, and mooring up wherever our mood suits us (and for our daily cocktail hour). 

We will maneuver ourselves through archaic locks, frighteningly high aquaducts, and pitch black mile long tunnels.  One such tunnel is reportedly haunted.  By a headless woman.  Who screams.  Not. My. Cup. Of. Tea.  Megan will probably have to tie me to the tiller just so I don’t abandon her and hide in the tiny boat bathroom.

This is a good time to mention the eels.  No, not the band (however, listen to this for pleasure to your ears).  Real eels.  The canals are stocked with them.  Some Englishman thought they might be a yummy dish, and unfortunately, have turned into delicacy when jellied.  Jellied Eels.  ICK. 

Last week, I had a dream that an eel actually jumped out of the water and landed in the boat.  Last night, Megan and I made a pact that we would not dance on top of the boat (yes, this would happen) for fear that we fall overboard and be subject to the eels.  Megan seems to think that if we tie ourselves to something, we’ll be ok because we can just drag ourselves back to the boat and back on board.  I am going to spend the whole week tied to a chair.

These eels thrive in dark, muddy crevices.  Now, remember the pitch black, mile long, haunted tunnel?  Yeah.   Eels and ghosts. 

I’d rather not be eel food.  Thanks.

What Ireland lacks in car rental policies, they better make up for in beer, music, and men.

CDW, DBP, TP, PAI, CDI... WTF?!!?

Really? I wasn't aware that I needed to have my decoder ring handy just to decipher Irish car rental websites. After what seemed like days spent scouring the internet for ideas on car rentals, help with car rentals, and people's various experiences renting cars in Ireland, we've finally figured it out. And, we have email proof of what they told us. Kalena is a genius, she's got it in writing. Apparently Ireland is a dangerous place to drive, because they require you have all sorts of insurance, just in case, for extra peace of mind.

In the US and many other countries, your major credit card will usually cover this insurance, in the event we forget to put the emergency brake on and let the VW roll off the Cliffs of Moher. In Ireland, this is not the case. They make you pay 14.80 EUR (or $20.68) DAILY for peace of mind. I keep thinking if we spent $20 a day on beers, we'd have another kind of peace of mind altogether, and really not give a care that the bloody car went rolling off the cliffs. Just sayin'. So for roughly $300, the smallest vehicle we could find (can you even call this a car?!) will be touring us over hill and dale and helping these two sister cats traverse Ireland. We're excited for the VW. We will inevitably come up with a spectacular name for our trusty chariot. Suggestions?

With the CRC (Car Rental Confusion) behind us, Kalena and I are back to looking forward to the many adventures that lie ahead. We spend evenings planning outings, reading Irish books... it seems as though EVERYTHING in our lives revolve around this trip. We've each started what we like to refer to as "Famine Diets." This actually has less to do with losing weight as it does with saving money. We're eating super, super cheap up until the trip. We're not going out until the trip, well, unless someone else pays for us, because we think the famished Irish would approve of that. Its just us being resourceful. And the Irish are known for their resiliency. Kalena is practically living off oatmeal, and I have finally made a dent in that 10 pound bag of rice I bought at Costco years ago. We'd rather eat rice and oatmeal for weeks than spend money here before we go. We went shopping yesterday with the sole purpose of purchasing clothes for Ireland. Outfits need to be planned. This is the trip of a lifetime, and it is not to be taken lightly. Yes... we realize the irony involved in not spending money on food, but then going shopping. What can we say, our priorities are in the right order. And you could say we have tunnel vision right now... Ireland. England. Fun. Laughter. Music. Dancing. Pubs. Boats. Its going to be amazing.

Megs

Welcome to the Big Top.

Yes. Welcome to the circus. For example, pray you partake in this little gem:

I really can't explain it. And this was before the sweet taste of alcohol flowed across our lips (well, maybe not before...but before too much.). This is simply what happens when Megs and I are left to our own devices, with one another, for extended periods of time. I believe we were supposed to be packing at the time we took this picture to go home for the holidays. We got far. And 10 years later, we are (at our cores) those same girls. We are sister cats.

Around the same this picture was taken, Megs gave me a card (that I am looking at and have kept to this day). On the front, it said "In another life, we were sisters. And cats. Sister cats." And inside, "You had two different color eyes, but it was cute." Now, Megs and I do not have different colored eyes (in fact, we have almost identically colored eyes. See the middle picture on the left in our header.), but the card was practically written by us...and I mean that it is something that we would actually say. We may not make much sense to other people, but we make sense to us. It doesn't help that at the time we were very interested in discussing our "old souls" and past lives. Oh, and we were living with three cats (cats is really not a good word for them as they were almost as big as my dog). So, it fit. And it stuck.

Watch out Ireland. You really have no idea.

Its kind of like DWTS, only without stars. Or dancing for that matter.

Though perhaps there will be dancing.  After all, you can't expect two girls to go pub crawling in Ireland and not partake in an Irish jig or two.  Or five. 

Thats the reason for this here blog.  We're taking a trip.  Crossing the pond.  Going home.  Fishing for eels.  Looking for men that show up on the doorstep with Guiness instead of flowers.  And, we're sure there will be a bit o' history and maybe some sight seeing involved as well.  But mainly pubs, jigs, music, men, boats, eels, and lots of laughter. 

Who ARE we?  Silly question Rabbit.  We are US.  We are Kalena and Megan.  Kiwi and Mango.  Kiki and Meggie.  Chamique and La Shonda.  We've had years and years (18 years to be exact) to get to know each other, create countless memories, play thousands of minesweeper tournaments, and develop a friendship that is strong enough to withstand the sands of time... and our many past lives.  Which, oddly enough, never really involved beaches.  Or sand.  Hmmmm.  So, we're taking a trip.  And we've a started a blog.  There will be beaches, but not of the tropical variety.  More the moody, brooding beaches you read about in the tales of Yore and Yesteryear.  There will be boats.  Yes, we'll be on a boat.  Bitch.  We're on a narrow boat.  Fishing for eels.  With our nautical themed pashmina afghans.  Kalena is on a hunt to find the best fish and chips in the land....  and what goes best with fish and chips?  EELS!   That, and a hoppy brew.  Do we even need to mention the pubs?  There WILL be pubs.  And Irish dancing.  And ponies with traps.  You, our readers (the 2 of you that exist right now) have NO idea what you are in for.  We will blow your mind. 

We thought about keeping travel journals.  We thought about writing postcards.  But, what other medium would allow us to put videos, pictures, homemade musicals, reenactments of epic Shakespearean works, and much more for your viewing/reading pleasure?  Hence, a blog.

We land on Irish shores in 45 days.  We can't wait.  The excitement and anticipation is killing us.  In the weeks leading up to our departure we'll be sharing with your some bits of Megalena (yes, we JUST came up with that.  Bril.) history.  You'll learn the origin of our motto: Be Not Eel Food.  The story of the sister cats, the meaning of Anam Cara, and Ohana.  We hope you like it.  We do.  We can tell.  Its good.  If you don't think so, read it again tomorrow, you'll probably get our jokes by then.  If not, well then, we'll feed you to the eels. 

Slainte,

Megan & Kalena
(Megalena)