This is appropriate Canadian fashion etiquette

I’m off tramping around the Saskatchewan backcountry for a few days, and since I doubt my tipi will have WiFi, I figured you’d enjoy this guest post from funny blogger Susan Shain. Have at ‘er!

My fellow female travelers,

Thank you for traveling. Thank you for showing the world it’s okay that #wegosolo. It’s so cool that we can go where we want, when we want. The world, and all of its magic, is out there just waiting for us to explore it.

Whilst exploring, you have the right to dress as you like. Fanny packs, scrunchies, those diaper-looking hippie pants. Whatever floats your boat.

But you know what doesn’t float anybody’s boat? Wandering around foreign countries half-dressed. You may think you’re expressing your right to do as you please, but you’re really just drawing unwanted attention to yourself. Attention that gives Western women often-undeserved reputations, makes local women feel uncomfortable, and, worst of all, can put you in danger.

Please, for the love of sunshine, COVER UP.

Remember: you’re a visitor in another culture. YOU are the one who should be adapting — not the other way around. If the local women aren’t baring all, it’s not up to you to start the trend.

In many cultures, it’s widely accepted that men will harass women as they walk down the street — no matter what they’re wearing. It sucks. For local women and visitors alike. BUT, you’re not going to change anything by traipsing around half-naked. If you don’t want to be over-bombarded (because, let’s face it, you’ll be bombarded no matter what) with cat calls, whistles, and hisses, then look around you. Are the local women wearing the same thing?

Dressing with cultural sensitivity will improve your experience, and that of those around you. Trust me; a local woman is far more willing to have a conversation with somebody who’s dressed like them than with somebody wearing a crop top and denim underwear. And, if you’re going out in a group, why not consider the rest of us who don’t want to be hissed at as though we’re parseltongues?

If you truly want to embrace the spirit of backpacking and travel, you need to ditch your ideas about your rights to dress and act as you want. When you travel, you’re visiting somebody else’s world. That’s the beauty of it. Sustainable travel involves learning about and understanding other cultures — not forcing yours upon it. You wouldn’t expect to travel to another country and gab away in your native language, so don’t expect to rock the same outfits, either.

I know, I know. Women shouldn’t have to act any differently than men. I agree. But it’s important to recognize that you’re the visitor here. Save the soapbox for your home country.

Part of being an advocate for your own rights is being conscious of how you express yourself. This is YOUR body to respect and protect. While you’re traveling, the last thing you want to worry about is receiving attention for the wrong thing. Wouldn’t you rather be focused on the wonder and excitement of being in a foreign land? Express your personality with funky jewelry or hairstyles, but not with skin.

Ladies: you are beautiful. You are strong. You’ve won Nobel Prizes, climbed Everest, birthed every incredible person on this earth, and fought valiantly for your rights and recognition as an equal.

If you’re traveling in another country, you’re probably pretty awesome. You’ve opened yourself up to learning about another culture and another way of life.

Your independent nature, world knowledge, and open mind are the sexiest things about you. Flaunt that instead.

xoxo,
Susan

Susan Shain has been working ungrownup adventure jobs and traveling the world since 2008. She currently lives in Granada, Nicaragua, where she volunteers with adorable kids… and has become immune to hissing. Catch up with her on her blog, Travel Junkette.

I read some thick material last month, and for the most part, they were all excellent choices. (In comparison, I’m failing miserably for June…it’s nearly halfway through the month, and I’m still on book #1.)

Anyway. That’s what happens when you go on road trips and you pretend you can’t drive so you can catch up on your reading time. Shhhh, Internet.

Here’s what I gobbled down.

Clara Callan – Richard B. Wright

Quick summary

In a small town in Canada, Clara Callan reluctantly takes leave of her sister, Nora, who is bound for New York. It’s a time when the growing threat of fascism in Europe is a constant worry, and people escape from reality through radio and the movies. Meanwhile, the two sisters — vastly different in personality, yet inextricably linked by a shared past — try to find their places within the complex web of social expectations for young women in the 1930s.

Three-line review

Easily one of my favourite books, and Clara Callan is easily one of my favourite characters. I read this on vacation in Jamaica and snuck away to finish reading at every chance. If your heart shatters like mine did, call me up. Let’s hug it out.

*****/*****

The Colour of Tea – Hannah Tunnicliffe

Quick summary

After moving with her husband to the tiny, bustling island of Macau, Grace Miller finds herself a stranger in a foreign land—a lone redhead towering above the crowd on the busy Chinese streets. As she is forced to confront the devastating news of her infertility, Grace’s marriage is fraying and her dreams of family have been shattered. She resolves to do something bold, something her impetuous mother would do, and she turns to what she loves: baking and the pleasure of afternoon tea.

Three-line review

An easy poolside read, but it was disappointing after Clara Callan. I wanted to punch Grace in the face for being so self-absorbed. My god woman, get your shit together. Some of her actions were questionable and unbelievable. Tunnicliffe rocks the food descriptions though.

*Angry side-note: If the main character has red hair, SHOULDN’T THE BOOK COVER?

**/*****

Wild – Cheryl Strayed

Quick summary

At twenty-two, Cheryl Strayed thought she had lost everything. In the wake of her mother’s death, her family scattered and her own marriage was soon destroyed. Four years later, with nothing more to lose, she made the most impulsive decision of her life: to hike the Pacific Crest Trail from the Mojave Desert through California and Oregon to Washington State—and to do it alone. She had no experience as a long-distance hiker, and the trail was little more than “an idea, vague and outlandish and full of promise.” But it was a promise of piecing back together a life that had come undone.

Three-line review

I don’t really understand or have much sympathy for a lot of the things Strayed did (i.e. divorcing her loving husband), but I gotta give her credit for being insanely honest. She’s been criticized for her lack of experience and foresight, but Strayed is totally open with those details, too.

****/*****

Far From the Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy

Quick summary

Independent and spirited Bathsheba Everdene has come to Weatherbury to take up her position as a farmer on the largest estate in the area. Her bold presence draws three very different suitors: the gentleman-farmer Boldwood, soldier-seducer Sergeant Troy and the devoted shepherd Gabriel Oak. Each, in contrasting ways, unsettles her decisions and complicates her life, and tragedy ensues, threatening the stability of the whole community.

Three-line review

Hardy was a long-winded ‘ol fart, wasn’t he? I moved through the beginning of this book like I were wading through molasses, but soon found myself absorbed. Bathsheba is an infuriating character, but so are all the man who throw themselves at her over and over again.

Also, I thought it was “Maddening” right up until like 10 minutes ago.

****/*****

Ever read any of these? What’d you think?

Cyprus is an island of outstanding natural beauty. Verdant landscapes stretch for miles, and despite a tumultuous past that has had reverberations in the modern day, there is a serenity to be enjoyed.

The same can be said for the many ancient ruins and sites of archaeological importance that are scattered across the island. Despite their bedraggled appearance, they remain enchanting places to visit and against a backdrop of clear blue skies they stand out magnificently.

The Tombs of Kings on Paphos

[Image courtesy of Enjoy Cyprus on Flickr]

The Tombs of Kings on Paphos is one of the most famous, visited and photographed of the ancient sites on the island. Ironically no kings were buried here, only higher society officials and aristocrats. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site also. Because the tombs were cut into the natural rock formations, they resembled liveable houses. Today they retain much of the magnificence that inspired their name. It is one of the first places that culture vultures arriving on a holiday from Co-Op Travel will think to head to.

Agios Sozomenos

[Image courtesy of Ade Rowbotham on Flickr]
Agios Sozomenos in Nicosia on Cyprus is a former village that even until 1974 had inhabitants. There is a sense of desolation and distance from the rest of the world whilst exploring the village, but in this, a sense of calm and peace resonates.

Kolossi Castle near to Limassol

[Image courtesy of Petrus Agricola on Flickr.]

The square design of the castle is characteristic of the Knights Hospitallers. It was also briefly inhabited by the Knights Templar (not to be confused with the Knights Hospitallers) but following their demise in 1313, it was returned to its rightful, previous owners. It was a castle of great importance on the island.

Paphos

[Image courtesy of ynysforgan_jack on Flickr.]

The World Heritage site that overlooks Paphos beach demonstrates typical Cypriot architectural features infused with the Turkish influence. It is famed for the mosaics of Nea Paphos.

Salamis

[Image courtesy of Cihan Keskin on Flickr.]

Near Famagusta are the ancient ruins of Salamis. Once a magnificent focal point of Cyprus, earthquakes caused damage to the site and slowly the people abandoned it. Here the amphitheatre remains, standing proud of a reminder of the battles and entertainment that once was.

Anyone remember that episode of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air where Will goes to the tree house to console Carlton, needs to use the bathroom, and Carlton responds with, “Down the hallway, to the left”? (Great, I tried to find this scene and ended up watching 10 minutes of ultimate Fresh Prince moments. Thanks, YouTube.) I always wanted that experience. And I got it.

In the Upper Laurentians of Quebec, near Grand Lake Nominingue, the folks at Les toits du monde are creating some of the coolest accommodations experiences in Canada. Like this tree house.

The owners have already set up a fully functional tipi, and during my visit, they were wrapping up the final details on a yurt. Next up: a hobbit house. SERIOUSLY. Plus they’re some of the nicest, friendliest people you’ll ever meet.

We were delighted with the prospect of being FORCED to unplug our gadgets—no WiFi, and there were certainly no power outlets. The tree house is about a 10-minute walk into the woods, and so there’s also an emphasis on being eco-friendly. The toilet is compost, for example.

We arrived late afternoon and spent some time exploring the area, snapping photos and being bloggers. I was delighted to simply stretch out on the futon and read my book, without even the hum of electricity to bother me (there is a lighting solar panel).

After picking up some supplies in town (note: minimal English spoken here), Ryan and Seattle got busy preparing the most epic feast you could possibly prepare on a two-burner propane stone. We had thick hamburgers, roasted sweet potatoes with onions and bacon, and stuffed red peppers. I read my book while they prepared food, and offered to do the dishes afterwards. Little did I know that without running water, cleaning dishes (especially those with bacon fat) is about an all-evening endeavor. I shook my fist at the sky.

We had planned on setting up the fire pit outside, but when night rolled around, my brave resolve fell apart. Like I said, it’s DARK out there. Like, really, really dark. And so we decided to roast giant marshmallows in the wood stove instead. The results were delicious.

We carried out the rest of the evening listening to Ryan’s interesting (read: disastrous) harmonica demonstrations and chatting and cleaning dishes. Goddamn those dishes. When it was time for bed, I settled in the loft while Zak took care of the wood stove downstairs. I awoke in the middle of the night being suffocated with the heat, and there was an unfortunate amount of boob sweat. Turns out the tree house is winter-insulated.

The next morning, our breakfast was delivered in a picnic basket via PULLEY ROPE. How freaking cool is that? PULLEY ROPE. It was the best breakfast we had on the road—fruit cups, waffles, coffee, homemade jam, and bread.

And then I had to do the dishes.

I wasn’t going to do a post-TBEX wrap-up because, well, I actually didn’t do much of anything. I only made it to one of the keynote speakers. But then I read Pam Mandel’s post about how she barely attended any talks, and I grew some big balls. Honesty. She has it.

I had full intention of making the most of talks this year, even though only a handful really sparked my interest. I tried to make it to Mike Sowden’s talk on tormenting your reader, because he’s one of my favourite writers, but I couldn’t even get inside the room. He’s THAT popular. (If you met him, you’d know why.) I missed Lola’s Storytelling Through Photography talk because I had another meeting, and I missed Ross Borden’s speech due to the schedule change. There were other amazing people I wanted to connect with (Annemarie Dooling, Jodi Ettenberg…), but most of the other talks – content strategy, monetization, etc. – made me throw up in my mouth.

Reuniting with the Matador Network team at the most epic after party of ALL TIME

Like Pam points out in her write-up, I’m more interested in the travel writing side of blogging. How to capture place. How to tell a good story. How to hook your readers. I feel like since the first TBEX I attended in 2010 in New York City, the conference has taken a drastic turn towards being entirely corporate. And isn’t that exactly what we bloggers are running from? I showed up on the opening night wearing a neon green YOLO Jamaica shirt and multi-coloured yoga pants, only to realize it was a pretty classy affair. If some of you bloggers out there can afford fancy suits, I’d like to know what you’re doing.

BUT, let’s get this straight. I still had one of the greatest weekends of my life.

Hanging with vlogging superstars Mike Corey and Nadine Sykora

Here’s why: people. Bloggers. Goddamn, you are all an amazingly talented, dedicated, passionate group of individuals. Reuniting with my Matador team and bloggers I’ve known for years now has reignited that flame for travel blogging, not to mention all the fresh new faces I became friends with in such a short amount of time. I’m broke as shit and completely exhausted after travelling straight through these past few months, but I’m HAPPY and liberated.

New friend! Erica from Trump Hotels and I hit it off. The demonic birds in the background are edited in, I swear.

You’ve all inspired me so much. The networking and socializing I did over the past few days did more for my spirit than any talk could. And yes, some of that networking included passing a 26-er of whiskey around a circle in someone’s backyard at 4 AM in the morning while strumming guitars and mandolins. And yes, some of that inspiration was due to an epic storytelling session in a hotel conference room that involved a group of bloggers drawing images with coloured chalk on pieces of paper. But we rocked it. We ROCKED it.

A very serious hotel conference discussion

I valued the arranged meetings with industry as well, even if my heart hurt after Maui rejected my invitation and I discovered others had dozens of meetings. But after chatting with DMOs and other travel industry folk, I realized that we bloggers got somethin’ going on. We’re all still trying to figure it out, but we’re getting there. We’re valuable. We’re influential…and if you bring Klout score into this I will literally clout you over the head.

With Matt Stabile from The Expeditioner

And the feedback! Man. I had so many people tell me how much they enjoyed my Ireland coverage. SO many. Mariellen literally took the time out of her busy night to sit down with me and tell me how inspired she was. I was ecstatic to hear this coming from such a talented blogger. Hearing that sort of feedback filled my soul.

The epic Matador Network after after party, with Luke Armstrong and Jenn Smith Nelson

The downside of TBEX? I’m feeling a particular sense of heartbreak now over the fact that these events are so fleeting. How is it that we’re all so tied together by the wonders of travel, and yet we only ever see each other once a year? How weird it is to know someone without knowing them, and to then have them disappear out of your life. I need TBEX rehab.

Another downside: the huge number of attendees meant I didn't get to spend as much time with other awesome people, like travel blogging BFF Cailin O'Neil.

Shooting flaming arrows as punishment for broken bottles of rum

You’re all beautiful.

And thus began our road trip. The highlights, you ask?

1. Driving through a freak snowstorm on Victoria Day Weekend, on our route to Gros Morne National Park. There was rain and slush and hydroplaning, and as a result, I spent a great deal of time panicking and whining. Zak handled it very well, although he might have slipped some tranquilizers into my water.

2. Peace and quiet in Rocky Harbour, while staying at Gros Morne Cabins. I don’t know what it is about a log cabin, but even if it’s in the middle of a busy city, I think I’d feel like it were the quietest place on earth. The cabins at Rocky Harbour faced the ocean, and we were privy to blinding sunsets and restful nights. It’s a rare occasion when Candice Walsh sleeps soundly through a night.

3. Crossing the Gulf of St. Lawrence with Marine Atlantic. The ferry crossing to Sydney, Nova Scotia, is a route that most of my friends have taken on various family vacations. Hearing about these vacations growing up suggested that places like Magnetic Hill in Moncton or the beaches of PEI were the most exotic destinations in the world, and so I was a bit overly thrilled to be on a giant ferry. We booked a four-person berth, and it was totally worth it. We had a few (expensive) beers and hit the sack, sleeping right through the crossing and waking up in a new province.

4. The Cabot Trail. When I lost my job back in 2010, I sought solitude in Cape Breton. Cape Breton heals. We hiked the Skyline and drove The Cabot Trail, and yet…no moose. Just winding coastlines and green highlands and lots and lots of coffee breaks.

5. Moncton’s Pump House Brewery. We randomly showed up here for flights of beer. They were CHEAP – just over $6 for fair-sized samples. And the place got character. The wooden booths have thousands of signatures/graffiti etched into them, and the vibe is friendly. The shenanigans were unexpected. As was Ryan’s admittance to an ungodly fear of mustard.

6. The nightlife in Quebec City. On my first visit to Quebec, I hadn’t really touched on the club and pub scene, but it’s rockin’. Go to Grand-Allee, do a personal pub crawl, and hit on as many French men as you can. Learn some pick-up lines en francais.

The stairs, however, were not so much a time. Thanks to Zak Erving for this photo.

7. Ordering a grand mega ultra pizza in Montreal. We quickly made friends with an American duo at our hostel, and so we all headed out on the town on Saturday night. Somehow we ended up at Hurley’s Irish Pub, because I had a hankering for some Guinness (and because my friend Blair forced us). We danced a few jigs, I downed a few Guinness, and by the time we got back to Central M, we wanted pizza.

For some reason, the other group of travellers in the hostel lobby felt like they had to outdo us in the pizza department, and so we had a war over whose pizza was bigger. Finally, our new friend Frank declared, “Yeah, well, we ordered TWELVE PIZZAS! TWELVE!”…for six of us. The other group’s eyes grew wide and thy backed away slowly. Nailed it.

8. Montreal. I just love this city. I could just sit in an apartment in Montreal and be content just to BE there. Montreal. Montreal. Montreal. Poutine. Poutine poutine poutine. Sometimes I don’t know why I left.

9. Staying in a treehouse at Les Toits du Monde in Nominique, Quebec. Like, a legit treehouse in the forest, with a bathroom and amenities and electricity. We cooked up an epic barbecue feast, drank some beers, told some ghost stories, and passed out with the woodstove blasting heat. There was a lot of boob sweat.

10. Crashing at my uncle’s place in Ottawa. Totally random, last-minute decision to spend the night at my uncle’s house rather than in another hostel. We barbecued, had beers, and then passed out in various locations around the house. On the downside, we didn’t see much of Ottawa. On the upside, we we didn’t spend any money.

11. TORONTO! We made it! Haggard and sick of each other and annoyed by the slightest provocation. Just kidding. We rocked TBEX so hard, I now have to go into TBEX rehab.

Thanks for making this happen, HittheRoad.ca and the Cross-Canada Blogger Train.

But on this most recent trip travelling with other bloggers on a much tighter budget, I got to see a bit more of the city on a more realistic level. As realistic as it gets when you’re 26 and broke.

We ended up picking a miserably rainy two days to be there, but Quebec is handsome no matter the weather. North America’s only walled city is as close to Europe as you can get without having to shake a baguette in someone’s face.

A few tips pour vous.

1. Be wise with your budget. Quebec is fairly expensive…particularly in Vieux-Quebec (the Old Town). The city seems to cater largely to retirees and older tourists — it has dozens of sidewalk cafes and fancy restaurants where they fold the napkins into wine glasses and boutiques with flashy jewelry. The further you get away from here, the cheaper it gets.

Same with accommodations. We stayed at Auberge Maeva Hostel, spending $30 each for a five-person dorm. It wasn’t a terrible hostel, but I paid the same price for other hostels in the province and the quality/service was much, much better. DO YOUR RESEARCH.

2. For nightlife, go to Grand-Allee. You can go on a self-made pub crawl, and it’s where the locals go. We started with beers at Taverne Grande Allee, a dimly-lit chilled out place with great appetizers for cheap prices.

Then we hit up Savini Resto-Bar, where they played killer music and an acrobat jumped onto the bar and then performed from a ring dangling from the ceiling. Folks really take Cirque du Soleil seriously here.

Finally, we wrapped up at Maurice Salon-Bar, an epic multi-leveled club with smoke machines, half-nude 20-somethings, and interesting/weird music choices. It’s worth a gander.

Seattle and I came to the conclusion here that Quebec has the best looking men in the world. I’m not kidding, ladies. The man meat is exceptional.

3. Don’t be afraid of a little French. I honestly thought I’d have to brandish my minimal French skills wherever I went just to get by, but Quebec City is a lot like Montreal with its bilingual abilities. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t TRY to speak French, but don’t get your panties in a knot over it. My favourite moment was when a server at Savini approached us to clear the table and spoke to us in a long string of French, and Seattle and I (half-dumb from the rum and cokes) just stared at him with eyes wide until he said, “Oh, English?” Yeah, we’re THOSE travellers.

3. Check out the market. Marché Jean-Talon in Vieux Quebec is small but varied. I recommend picking up a bottle of ice cider for the parentals or loved ones back home – it’s a crisp tipple, and Quebec takes its wine very, very seriously. I bought mine from Bilodeau.

4. Just WANDER! I can’t stress how lovely Vieux-Quebec is. Cobblestone streets, terrasses on the sidewalk, Chateau Frontenac…it’s a photographer’s dream and a poor writer’s desire. Ride the funiculaire to the bottom and then explore the streets below the Chateau. Pop into shops, buy some moose pajamas and tacky souvenirs, sample croissants from a boulangerie and sip coffee in the streets. Voila, Quebec!

So on my most recent HittheRoad.ca road trip with Seattle, Ryan and Zak, I was stoked to be able to show them around.

Bloggers bright-eyed and bushy tailed before 43894839 hours of driving. Thanks for the photo, Ryan!

We departed from St. John’s in the middle of a freak storm that dumped 25 centimetres of snow in Central. We had to drive through it, and although the sun came gloriously through for us on the west coast, it was COLD. But since I am the Weather Fairy and all, the sun did smarten up eventually. (And then disappeared for the remainder of our road trip.)

This is what travelling with bloggers looks like

Here are some tips to make the most of your time in the park.

1. Get a rental car. Immediately.

This national park isn’t like other national parks with fully loaded public transit systems or busy towns with expensive tourist shops. Nope. As it turns out, this inconvenience is a perk – you’ve got all the stunning scenery a body can handle, but all while retaining that small-town Newfoundland feel.

The three main towns to set up camp are in Rocky Harbour, Norris Point, and Woody Point. Norris Point and Rocky Harbour are close together, and both are extremely small towns, but if you want to get to the Tablelands or even Woody Point, you’ll have to drive for at least an hour. During high season, a Water Taxi operates between Woody Point and Norris Point…but you can’t take your vehicle onboard.

The lovely sunset view from Gros Morne Cabins in Rocky Harbour

Get a rental car.

2. Hike, hike, hike

There are a million and one hikes in Gros Morne. Or close to it. You might as well climb Gros Morne (Great Somber) yourself while you’re there, but it’s an intense hike with steep inclines and unstable footing. Give yourself a full day to do that one. You may see moose. They’re delicious.

The same goes for if you’re going to do the entire Green Gardens hike – it’s a full day endeavor, but you’ll move from the moonscape of The Tablelands to deep green forests to a beach with a bubbly lava wall. The boys did this hike on our final day in the park, but I was so ill all I could do was nap in the car and eat crackers.

The glorious view from Woody Point

My ultimate goal is to hike the epic Northern Rim, at the end of Western Brook Pond Fjord (see below). The route takes a few days to a week, and hikers are required to pass a map-and-compass test, but the views from the top of the fjord are unbelievable.

Easier hike: just do The Tablelands. Lazy arse.

3. Boat tours

One of my favourite places in the park is Western Brook Pond Fjord (Glacier Bay Inlet Mountain, etc). Glaciers carved out the area thousands of years ago, and when the depressed land bounded back, the pond was cut off from the ocean. The water is too pure to conduct electricity. You can cruise the pond with Bontours, who will take you deep into the fjord.

Another favourite: Trout River Pond (Lake Ocean Mountain Valley Pass) with Ocean Quest Adventures. You get The Tablelands on one side and the green gabbro landscape on the other, demonstrating one of the world’s best examples of continental drift. Plus the tour guide will point out a perfect example of Mohorovicic Discontinuity to you (the boundary between earth’s crust and the mantle). That sentence probably just turned a lot of geologists on.

Festivals and music

There’s a crapload of festivals going on throughout the year (my favourite being Writers at Woody Point). We happened to be there for the Trails, Tales and Tunes festival, and the place was BUSY. We went to the Cat Stop on Sunday night to see Sherman Downey and the Ambiguous Cases perform (one of my faves), and we had to wait about 15 minutes to get in. I could hear my favourite tunes being played as I stood wistfully in the line-up, scowling at anyone who looked like they were having a blast.

Food and art

I always take people to Java Jack’s in Rocky Harbour when I’m in Gros Morne — I absolutely LOVE the cafe and the service is fantastic. Prices are affordable, and most ingredients are grown in the organic garden.

The cafe also features a ton of artwork from locals and other Canadians, including some impressive collections of jewelry. I had to buy this pocket-watch necklace from Overman. How could I not? Self-control, I guess. Shut up.

Where to stay

We were hosted by Gros Morne Cabins, in Rocky Harbour. The place was so cozy, I contemplated ditching the Cat Stop concert to appreciate the quiet cabin feel overlooking the ocean. We had two queen-sized beds covered in handmade quilts made by “Lillian”, and had the pleasure of cooking our own meals and working at ease in the cabin’s common area.

I’ve also stayed at The Tide’s Inn in Norris Point in the past, with easy access to the Water Taxi and the Cat Stop.

For those on more of a budget, campgrounds and hostels are available as well.

The weather was often grey and dismal, but it just added to the whole feel of the trip. The variety of light that played across the mountains and coast never grew boring, and instead made the whole landscape moodier and more impressive. We never once encountered another tourist, and often had long stretches of road all to ourselves. Check out the photos from the Ring of Beara (and environs) below.

Sheep make pretty good subjects.

The colourful houses in townships along the way really liven up the grey skies.

This is Allihies, dubbed one of Ireland’s most colourful towns.

I didn’t expect to see such sandy beaches near Allihies!

Driving into Allihies.

The next day we had planned to do the Ring of Kerry, but ran out of time. We DID manage to touch on it, though.

Found a touch of solitude at the beginning of our failed Ring of Kerry attempt. Could have stayed here all day.

Et fin.

Will you be at TBEX? Come say “hi”!

Selected Poems – Oscar Wilde

Quick summary

Contains a chronology of Wilde`s life and times as well as poems. A few of the poems have been taken from manuscript sources- many unpublished during his lifetime.

Three-line review

I figured if I were in Ireland, I should read some of the local talent. And so I went for Wilde, mostly based on his wildly funny and thoughtful quotes. I didn’t think this was the greatest selection of his work — and I’d still rather study poetry in a classroom setting — but I regret nothing, dammit.

***/*****

The Perks of Being a Wallflower – Stephen Chbosky

Quick summary

Charlie is a freshman.

And while he’s not the biggest geek in the school, he is by no means popular. Shy, introspective, intelligent beyond his years yet socially awkward, he is a wallflower, caught between trying to live his life and trying to run from it.

Three-line review

I can’t believe I’m only just reading this book, but I adored it. I adore the simple writing and then narrative. I adore Charlie and his friends. Found myself in tears several times throughout the book, and thanked the heavens I’m no longer in high school. Make your children read this book.

****/*****

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society – Mary Ann Shaffer, Annie Barrows

Quick summary

January 1946: London is emerging from the shadow of the Second World War, and writer Juliet Ashton is looking for her next book subject. Who could imagine that she would find it in a letter from a man she’s never met, a native of the island of Guernsey, who has come across her name written inside a book by Charles Lamb….

As Juliet and her new correspondent exchange letters, Juliet is drawn into the world of this man and his friends—and what a wonderfully eccentric world it is. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society—born as a spur-of-the-moment alibi when its members were discovered breaking curfew by the Germans occupying their island—boasts a charming, funny, deeply human cast of characters, from pig farmers to phrenologists, literature lovers all.

Three-line review

I felt some of this was outrageously cheesy and predictable, but the entire story has a dreamy quality you can’t help but lose yourself in. (Then again I have no sense of direction, so I get lost in everything.) The letter format didn’t work all that well for me, but I loved the characters.

****/*****

The Picture of Dorian Gray – Oscar Wilde

Quick summary

After having his portrait painted, Dorian Gray is captivated by his own beauty. Tempted by his world-weary friend, decadent friend Lord Henry Wotton, he wished to stay young forever and pledges his very soul to keep his good looks. As Dorian’s slide into crime and cruelty progresses, he stays magically youthful, while his beautiful portrait changes, revealing the hideous corruption of moral decay.

Three-line review

This book was hella intense, mildly creepy, and completely disturbing. But I was surprised by how much I loved it. Wilde’s only novel, and he did a damned good job of it. The kind of social commentary that would have been awesome to discuss in some English lit classes.

****/*****

As soon as you drive into the tiny town of Lismore, you’re forced to acknowledge Lismore Castle. The building looms over a river and dominates the landscape so entirely that you’re apt to drive off the road. You jump out of your car and stand along the bridge avoiding traffic and honking drivers, and you snap photos until you’ve grown weary of acknowledging the fact you’ll never live inside such a stately home.

And then you’re invited to spend the night in the Burlington Wing.

This baby was built in 1185 by King John, and was then owned by Sir Walter Raleigh and Richard Boyle, First Earl of Cork, and then passed along to the Fourth Duke of Devonshire in 1753. It’s now owned by the latest Duke of Devonshire, but you can rent it out for a handsome sum. That’s why I was bowled over when I was invited to spend a night there, along with Scott. We hadn’t even realized how big of a privilege it was to do so until we kept being met with wide eyes and suspicious glares every time we mentioned it to the locals. After all, you have to rent out the castle in its entirety rather than a single room.

We drove up to the massive gates and willed them to open. We thought maybe there’d be a knight waiting from a tower with special instructions to let us in. But they didn’t budge. We were told the Butler would meet us, and yet we had no idea where the entrance was. So finally we spotted a utility truck and chased it around the back of the castle, where a worker got out and told us where to skedaddle. We made it, alas.

The kind Butler gave us a tour of the Wing. I think what I loved the most was the casualness of the whole thing – he stood there describing the 18th century tapestries depicting scenes from Don Quixote and then showed us to various rooms where the likes of JFK and Fred Astaire stayed, and I just kinda mutely nodded and shook my head when appropriate. In one room, I flipped open the cover of a book atop a nightstand and saw it was signed by Adele Astaire.

When he left, he told us there was wine and booze stocked in the pantry, and that we basically had free-range of the place. It also turned out to be the windiest, rainiest day of my entire trip to Ireland. The river (moat?) was flooded, and a gale kept tearing through the fireplace. At one point when I was writing a letter at the desk and Scott had mysteriously disappeared, I kept hearing whisperings around me and thought he was playing a trick on me. He found me 10 minutes later gripping the table in terror while calling out to him as he spoke to his mother on the phone.

I think my favourite moment was the next morning when I appeared at the breakfast table, head pounding with wine, to find food already laid out. Scott followed shortly. “There’s a man named Leonard polishing silverware in the pantry,” he said. And that was that.

Markree Castle

After my most favourite night out in all of Irish history (involving me), Julia and I hightailed it back to Markree Castle, set on a 500-acre estate in Sligo. Its been owned by the Cooper family for nearly 400 years and has been converted into a luxury hotel. I was lucky enough to be staying in Johnny Cash’s room – he made a TV recording of “Woodcarver” in the castle in 1990.

I didn’t really feel his presence, but the Guinness might have had something to do with that because I didn’t feel much of anything.

We decided to crash the wedding that was taking place on the grounds, just for giggles, but found the American couple more than accommodating. They thrust cupcakes at us and invited us to chat and bought us shots and kept giving us the “rock on” hand-sign of approval. Everything was fine and dandy until one of the ladies looked at me with eyes wide and implored, “Did you know there was a famine here?” I decided it was bedtime.

Every now and then the gods transpire to create one of those days that will go down in personal travel history.

Before coming to Sligo, I had made contact with David O’Hara, operator of SUP for all (stand-up paddling). He’s genuinely one of the most enthusiastic, passionate people I’ve ever met, and he invited Julia and I out for a day on the water.

We showed up at the River Bonet with our new friends – David, Art, and Sonya. We were then introduced to Paul and Shambles, experienced SUPers who would serve as guides.

We suited up – me in an alpaca hat and a dry-suit – and began our peaceful paddle down the river. Conditions were perfect: warm, zero wind, and all the craic we could muster from our new friends. We were grinning and chatting and having the grandest of grand times.

When we hit Lough Gill, the wind started to pick up. A motorboat zoomed by, and I was told to aim my board into the waves. My stance was shaky, but I powered through, and was triumphant about the whole thing.

I might have gotten cocky, because then, while chatting with Paul, I got a little distracted. We were supposed to land on the Isle of Innisfree (made famous by the Yeats poem), but I was starting to drift a little far to the right. Paul was guiding me from one side and David was trying to coax me from another side, but my foggy hungover brain couldn’t absorb anything. I started drifting out to god knows where.

At that point, the wind was hitting me hard and I was paddling my little heart out to get to the island. Paul came with me, and we finally managed to land on the other side, but not without me JUST nearly falling in. On the other side of the island, disaster struck: Julia toppled over on top of her board and got her legs wet, and when Sonya turned to observe the situation, she fell the whole way in.

We sat on the Isle in the grass, laughing our asses off about the whole scene and the chaos that ensued. Honestly, if we had simply pulled up with a soft landing on the Isle of Innisfree, I don’t think the experience would have been so delightful (Sonya may have differing opinions). I don’t think I laughed so hard in my life.

That was basically the signal for us to hit the pub. We dried Sonya off (“Sonya, would you say you’re about 30% wet?” “I’d say I’m 80% wet.”) and headed to The Thatch Pub.

I thought we were just going to have a few pints, it being Wednesday afternoon and all. But then two musicians showed up – Cathy Jordan and Seanan Brennan. They started busting out the tunes, and before I knew it, I was experiencing the kind of Irish trad session I had dreamed about…totally impromptu, totally unexpected, unbelievably beautiful. These two are so talented that I was literally in tears during a few songs. (Cathy Jordan just released a new CD, by the way, All the Way Home. It’s a gorgeous listen.)

And as things seem to go in Ireland, everybody is a musician (I realized this after my roommate Richy showed up at a pub in Galway with a flute tucked into his sock, “just in case”). Shambles broke out the banjo and David’s wife busted out a guitar and then even the bartender joined in for a song.

I practically forced Cathy and Seanan to stay longer; I was awash in musical bliss and travel happiness. We danced and sang and I nearly fainted when I requested Sonny’s Dream and the whole pub erupted into song.

Seriously, those are the moments I live for.

When the whole thing was over, Julia, Art and I hightailed it back to Markree Castle where we were spending the night. (I had the Johnny Cash room. No biggie.) And of course when you show up at a castle and the bar is open for an American wedding, what else would you do besides crash it? So we did. And there were cupcakes, and shots of Jagerbombs, and blushing brides and handsome groomsmen.

I was so overwhelmed the next day, I couldn’t even write an appropriate Facebook status. So I drew a diagram instead.

Thanks to everyone who had a hand in creating my favourite travel memory of all time. World, it’s gonna take some magic to top that one.