EPT
![[image loading]](http://sirjolt.xadacka.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/Train.jpg)
Anyway, meandering aside, the sister lives in Kerry, as far in my mind from human habitation as it’s reasonably possible to reach. Myself and the brother, who has himself only recently returned to the country, made our way here by means of train, a method of transit so antique that neither of us suffer from containment on it, which is fortunate enough. Still, the fact that we’re going somewhere that is, effectively, more Irish than we’re used to means that we may as well be somewhere foreign.
When we disembarked in Killarney, I realised that any town smaller than Dublin will forever be a kind of Toy-Town to me. KIllorglin is only worse. The roads are too small, the kerbs slightly the wrong height (and brightly painted), the graffiti etched in too cheerful a manner; the sentiment is simply far too light hearted. I wondered briefly if perhaps it could be that in a town where you’re likely to know every second person you bump into, but it seems equally likely that people here are just happier, more inclined to pain the town in jocund colours as though it were a kind of mad puzzle.
Indeed, so very strange was our trip across the countryside that when we walked by a shop window displaying very little in the line of merchandise and proudly boasting a sign that simply read:
“The Cheapest Binoculars in Town,”
we almost continued on our way, as if such a thing shouldn’t attract attention in the least. The strangeness of things was starting to get a little too easy to accept, and that itself was a little worrying. It's only weirder because of the array of other products on sale... shampoo, conditioner, makeup, premium rat killer (which I can only assume gets your rats deader) and... the cheapest binoculars in town.
![[image loading]](http://sirjolt.xadacka.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/Binoculars.jpg)
After seeing that, and immediately assuming that we were becoming too quickly inured to the strangeness with which we found ourselves so suddenly surrounded, I asked the brother whether or not he thought that the folks who lived there could tell us from sturdy, local people from a distance…
It didn’t help our case when, immediately after I’d finished my sentence, a horse pulled a carriage around the nearest corner and we both froze, stunned by its sudden appearance, while all around us the town continued in a reasonably approximation of what I assume qualifies as “bustle” in the countryside.
The brother then observed that we were the countryside equivalent of that charming category of people occasionally encountered in Dublin who, on seeing the Luas drift by in its casual, calm-as-you-like-but-eerily-silent fashion, feel themselves inexplicably rooted to the spot, exclaiming,
“Jaysus! Where are the wheels!?”
We both had a fine laugh at the expense of gormless people in the city until we realised that the two of us had been standing, rooted to the spot, watching a horse go by because, well…
“Jaysus! Where are the wheels!?”
We later had a wonderful City Slickers moment after buying two inter-town bus tickets so that we could get to the sister’s house. Having bought tickets, we turned around and walked to a large automatic door, hitched up our bags ready to head off for the bus… and waited.
It turns out, they don’t have “automatic doors” as much as they have “plate glass windows with a split down the middle” and a normal door off to one side. Naturally, I felt the need to make some exclamation, so that the people around us might better understand that we’re not a pair of brutal, simian idiots. I did so by saying, just a touch above normal volume,
“Hah, you’re not a door.”
A woman behind us looked as though she’d drop her sandwich. This woman later turned out to be either inappropriately friendly or to know the bus driver from a previous trip. I’d hazard a guess at her having known them, but as you may have guessed from my various misadventures up to this point… I’ve not quite been up to snuff when it comes to these kinds of guesses over the course of our trip.
Anyway, before long we ended up at the sister’s house and I must say that being so entirely detached from the day-to-day goings on of the wide world has been fantastic so far, though I am, as ever, fairly firmly attached to my internet connection.
I also saw this disconcerting sign in Dublin airport last week, but thought it was worth posting and, as is my way, immediately forgot until now.
![[image loading]](http://sirjolt.xadacka.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/Airport.jpg)
