Biking Day 5

(from my journal)

So I’m in an Italian Restaurant in Athlone at a table for one. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but when I walked in, table by table everyone glanced at me. The waitress had to get special approval and instructions on what to do about a table of one. Finally, she pulled two tables apart and sat me at one of them.

(not from my journal anymore. Unfortunately, it was here that I stopped writing)

That morning, after an amazing breakfast by John, I rode down a few kilometers to Clonmacnoise. John told me about the back way to go so I didn’t have to pay haha. I took my bike around bike and entered through an old gate in a large stonewall. At first, all I could see was an old cemetery, but it was one of the most beautiful cemeteries I have seen, and I know people don't usually think of them that way. I followed the dirt path up to the ruins and found myself alone among 1500-year-old buildings and an all white graveyard from the 12^th century set right next to a large lake. Some fisherman kept staring at me from down on the shore, and I think I know why (the shock yellow jacket again). The ruins were so beautiful in the mist and I felt like I had been transported to some mystic place in time. I really didn’t want to leave but I wanted to make sure that I allowed enough time to get to Athlone for the St. Patrick’s Day parade.

Fortunately, I only had to ride 25 km, compared to my usual 80. As a result, I got into town early and I was able to check in to my B&B (which I finally called ahead to) and get out and see the Athlone parade. I found out later that my two cousins from Mullingar were in the parade and I had seen them but didn’t know who they were at the time. After the Parade, I took a long nap and then went to the Italian Restaurant that I talked about above. Next, I decided to be brave and venture out alone to the bar down the street where my B&B hosts said it would be all kids my age. It certainly was, however these were the best-dressed kids with amazing Irish features. Then there was me in my unwashed black fleece, and worn green corduroys. Wow, it took everything in me (and 2 pints of Guinness) to keep me there. I finally got talking to a nice guy named Nigel and hung out with him and his friends the rest of the night. So overall, it was a fun St. Patrick’s Day.