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From early birds to aperitif heros

 🥱 Early Bird, Late Night, and Windy Adventures

I did something wild last night. Something radical. Something completely out of character.
I went to bed at 11 p.m.

Yes, you read that right. Eleven. P. M.
Normally, I don’t switch off the lights until around 2:30 a.m., so this was basically the equivalent of joining a monastery.

Of course, going to bed early means waking up early. Too early. That annoying sort of early when your body says: “Nope, you’re not getting up yet,” but your brain decides to host a pop-up circus. So, naturally, I reached for my phone and started writing a few lines for this blog. Better that than scrolling the news, especially today when France is staging yet another Day of Chaos™—strikes, protests, and the government collapsing (again). Frankly, I’m delighted to be on the Green Island instead of dodging tear gas back home.

This morning marked another first: breakfast at home at 8 a.m. A wholesome, simple spread before heading out at 8:45 for our adventure. Everyone (except me, of course) complained about a terrible night’s sleep thanks to noisy partygoers at 2 a.m. Apparently the racket was deafening. I, meanwhile, slept like a rock. Either I’m blessed with selective hearing, or Guinness doubles as industrial earplugs.

🚗🚢 To the Aran Islands (Hold on to Your Hat)

We set off in two cars for Roosaveel, battling morning traffic for 45 minutes to catch the ferry to Inis Mór. The ferry itself was 40 minutes of rollercoaster waves, sprinkled with dolphin sightings—like a free upgrade to Disney’s “Finding Nemo.”

Once ashore, we split into two groups for the famous coastal walk. Now, when they say “coastal walk,” what they really mean is: Try not to be blown into the Atlantic. The wind was so fierce at times that walking in a straight line was more theoretical than practical. I’m fairly certain we all looked like badly programmed robots staggering along the cliffs.

Five hours later, thoroughly windswept and in dire need of both liquid and solid motivation, we reconvened at a pub for a restorative drink. The ferry company must have sensed our exhaustion because we managed to hop on an earlier boat back.

🍷 Back to Galway (The Important Bit)

On the way home, we did a pit stop at Tesco for the true essentials: breakfast supplies and, of course, aperitif reinforcements. Priorities.

Naturally, we couldn’t just drive straight home—there was an obligatory Guinness at the local pub before heading back to our base. Once properly hydrated, it was time for the evening ritual: aperitif o’clock.

Dinner is booked at 8 p.m. at a local Italian place, which should hopefully involve less wind and more pasta.

Depending on which phone app you consult, we walked somewhere between 12 and 15 kilometres today. Personally, I’m going with the higher number—it sounds more heroic. Besides, in that gale, every step counted double.

Not bad at all for a day that began with monk-like discipline and ended with wine, Guinness, and pasta.

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