Liverpool: Stretching It

20th of Januari, I made it to liverpool today.

Let’s sum things up as I only have a short time in this overpriced internet cafe thing. I hate pre-paid connection.

I went from Ballina to Dublin, west to east, in one day again, despite getting caught weather that made the headlines:

Winds of up to 80mph cut electricity supplies to around 100,000 homes across Ireland, and fallen trees and debris damaged power lines and blocked roads.

Some weather to be hitch hiking in. But, I got extremely lucky and got a ride straight into Dublin centre by a pack of guys who were attending a kickboxing even there. I stayed for 2 nights, but because I had so much preparations to do I didn’t have the chance to visit the Tara Hill protestors, which I regret. Looking back, I think I should have stayed a day longer. Oh well. Looking back, there’s a lot of things that could have gone differently in the recent past.

I fucked up royally. It’s funny how I will give 8 euro to a man who can’t pay for his bus ride home, but I prefer to be set back 50km rather than pay and extra 5 to get dropped off by boat in Liverpool rather than some random town that happens to be closer by Dublin.
I swear, this town was designed to rip me to bits. It’s a shredder, catching any unsuspecting hitch-hiker in its claws and eating them alive. First of all, there are no indications whatsoever except for the town next door, 70% of the signs are in fucking Welsh, and I am not permitted to go anywhere near the road I need to be on. Seriouslym they put fences up and make the sidewalks impossible to walk on just in case someone should need to catch a ride there. I ended up halfway into town, serving as the laughing stock of the locals and the target of a shitload of useless and unasked advice. Eventually I did get a ride to the aforementioned town, with a name I am happy to have forgotten, in the right direction but only slightly down the road.

I figured I couldn’t possibly be worse off, but it so happened I was dead wrong. The 2 hours that followed were pure frustration and worrying. I had contacted several couchsurfing addresses, thinking I could thankfully cancel the others once I made it to one place, so I had multiple people waiting for me. With this in mind, I ended up underneath a motorway, with two roundabouts on the end of each driveway, with exits leading in all directions. No sidewalks, short bends, fast traffic with no place to stop. A hitch-hiker’s fucking nightmare. I once again tried to position myself in the nearby village, but besides getting laughed at, I didn’t accoplish much there. And it was getting dark.

I found another one of those B&B hotels, kindly willing to help me out but for no less than £35. I’m not even going to convert that. Instead of getting my money’s worth as a good night’s sleep, my cell phone decided to bug on me, reset itself, and tell me it was time to get up at 5.30 in the morning. I was showered, fully dressed and wondering what happened to my breakfast, when I noticed it really was still strangely dark outside. I suggest you try that if you really want to know how hard it is to get back to sleep after that, only to have to do it all over again 2 hours later.

I took a train the next morning, for the first time on this trip. So far I had considered public transport to be "cheating," but I really am at the end of my patience here. I said before, I lack the patience for this kind of adventure. Cold, wet and with nothing to do but wait in hope to get lucky, I get frustrated very fast.

In other words, Fuck Wales. You’re UK, learn English. Grow sidewalks and learn to walk, you’re 6 million years behind on evolution.

>>Hi Maarten
>>Well, I suppose you found somewhere to syat which I am
>>happy about. Howver, I’m a little dissapointed that
>>you lacked the good manners to respond to my offer to
>>let you couch surf with me. A simple message would
>>have been polite and considerate.
>>I hope you have fun in my city.
>>[Host’s name]


This said, I get the feeling I can connect with people a lot better here. It seemed to me that there was a whole generation missing in Ireland, situated somewhere between 20 and 35 years of age and in extreme minority, which is located in Temple Bar in Dublin and all looking like little dolls. Besides beig provided with individuals I can openly gawk at, people here also come over a lot more natural. It could be because they don’t start chugging Guinness at 9 in the morning, or that they have a slightly less vague connection with the actual world, focusing less on their miserable weather and equally grey American politics.

Isnt’ Obama doing his little speech today, by the way? €50 says he gets assassinated, soon if not today. I watched a special about him last night in the hotel, and though I wholeheartedly agree with 99% of his viewpoints and sincerely hope he can make his promises true, I get the feeling that I am the only one who truely realizes what he is up against. It’s not citizens who rule the nation as in a real democracy, but dollars. And in that sense, he is turning against his own nation.
I wish him the best of luck. He’s going to need it.


I got no response from my couchsurfing address yet. It’s 1pm and I don’t know where I’m going to sleep. I wrote down where to find the only youth hostel in reach but there’s a good chance it might be fully booked. I’m going to check the net again tonight, if able. Finger crossed.


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