Ireland Revisited

I recently spent 3 fabulous weeks in Ireland with some good friends – new and old. (If you are just here to see some sweet pictures from my latest trip, then scroll down to the gallery part). It was probably my 7th trip there in the decade that has passed since my first impromptu immigration to Ireland. This near-mythical island fascinates me with its resilient culture, at home and abroad. Between 9 and 10 million people have emigrated from Ireland since the 1700’s, and today the Irish People and their descendants count more than 80 million humans. This post is an introduction into the migration-happy Ireland that i have come to know and love.

Fáilte go hÉirinn – Welcome to Ireland!


Now where did that image go?

Also known as “The Emerald Isle”, Ireland is indeed a very green place. Lots of old castles and rugged cliffs too. Just like the brochures really, except they don’t always mention the incessant rain…

Early Irish Impressions

When I was 20 years old, I was living in England’s “San Francisco” – the lively seaside town of Brighton – where young back packers and middle-aged party-addicts spontaneously get stuck until they run out of money or mental health.

I ran out of both after about a year of odd-jobs and shoestring-debauchery – but what a year it was! This was my first bit of proper impromptu migration, traveling alone and with nothing but opportunity and adventure ahead of me. Here I made friends from around the world, and one such friend was the Irishman Joe (Great Mystery rest his soul). More

Beating Around The Bush In A Bus

I caught a ride through Australia, hitching with Timmo from Finland and Ben from Mullumbimby in a fine Toyota Coaster. Eardrum and Ananda were the generous stewards of this old beauty of a bus, and the stories of their adventures could easily have taken us all around Australia a couple of times.

Now where did that image go?

Chillin’ in the bush on the Gregory Development Road. That’s Eardrum saying fuck you mate. Don’t take it personal. He’s actually a great guy. Just make sure he eats.

They were leaving only 30km from where I was at, and they drove me about 2100 km North (yes I know there are 2 zeros there). Three days of driving and we’re still in the same country. We took the inland road instead of the coast. Bush. More bush. Bush. Sleep. Bush. Bit of desert. Bush, bush, bush then sleep. Then bush, bush, bush, bush, desert, bush, bush and then suddenly tropical mountains.

The five of us were damn near delirious when we celebrated our 3 days of solid driving with fish’n’chips & beers in cosy Kuranda – the village in the rainforest. Along the way we had seen and felt the endless miles of shrub and dry heat (Nevada go home), heard the rare sound of our inner songs in the spinning wheels of the bus, and tasted the distances of our lives in the dust on its windscreen.

What a trip. I could tell you a story, but you really did have to have been there…