Airport adventures, a crab fisherman and Belgian beer

3/1 - The travel day from Dublin back to Porterville on Saturday was worthy of its own blog. The biggest lesson for the day?

Ethiopian Airline sucks. Never again. My first experience with the airline in Los Angeles was no fluke.

After trying to sleep in Dublin Airport for five hours, the airline wanted to verify my payment card. I used a different card to pay for the flight, but that account is closed now. The woman at the desk told me a person would be over in two minutes to verify the card, so I moved to the side to wait.

Forty-five minutes later, still no one had helped me. I was visibly annoyed at this point, pacing back and forth and knocking on the counter with my knuckles. I sarcastically asked the check-in lady, "should I just come back another time when it's less busy?" The fact an Irish guy named Eddy was going through the same thing, but in his case it was more than two hours of waiting, should make the airline ashamed of itself. Eddy was fuming, at one point calling the check-in people assholes to their faces.

Once someone finally made their way over to help us, the whole process took less than five minutes. It was shockingly bad customer service. United in our combined mistreatment from the airline, Eddy and I formed a brief friendship. I found out he is the captain of F.V. Stella, a fishing boat in Alaska. This is the exact kind of boat you see on the television show "Deadliest Catch." We talked about it for a few minutes, and I gave him my business card after saying I'd love to try crab fishing for a season because there's a sense of danger there (it also pays incredibly well).

After completing the 10-hour flight back to Los Angeles and putting up with a screaming brat who actually lay face down in the isle a few times just screaming at the top of her voice, I had one more travel hurdle to overcome, and this is where the story really gets interesting. Since my flight was delayed an hour because of the terrible customer service, I missed my Amtrak bus to Bakersfield.

I bought an Amtrak ticket for a bus leaving Union Station, but I didn't know how far that station was away from LAX. I had a travel plan; it was just badly planned and executed. Since I missed my first bus, I called Amtrak and changed the ticket to a later bus which was about an hour later. After waiting for the shuttle to Union Station (which costs $7), I realized I'd be late for this one as well.

After another call to Amtrak to change my bus to a later departure, I found out the later departure was sold out, so it was either this bus in less than an hour or I'd have to find a place to stay in Los Angeles for the night. After a moment of brief panic and a "what am I supposed to do?!" to the person on the phone because I had to get across Los Angeles in about 40 minutes, my head cleared.

From that point I was forced to use my last and most desperate option to get across the city: a taxi. Luckily I had a good driver, an Ethiopian man (coincidence?) who zoomed me downtown and to Union Station in 25 minutes, five minutes before my bus left. After running through the station, frantically trying to figure out where my bus was, I made it, breathless and sweating. All things considered, the $60-plus fare to get me there was worth it, but that was one close call.

The bus trip to Bakersfield and train ride to Corcoran were uneventful besides the fact I sat next to a man who had been released from prison that day after a three-year stay. He had nothing with him besides the sweatsuit on his back and a few papers. I let him use my phone to get a ride from the train station because I'd want someone to help me if I were in his shoes.

I was happy to be back in Porterville that night, something I won't say too often. It was a long, expensive and stressful day, but it was also filled with crossing paths with fascinating people. Having an adventure and a good memory sometimes begins in the airport terminal, so the fact the day was difficult is no problem. I'm not angry; it's a great story!

4/1 - Despite being jetlagged, I visited some friends in Visalia on Sunday. To their house I brought my favorite beer: Trapistes Rochefort No. 10. I was pleasantly shocked to find it in a BevMo in Visalia. Though the bottle wasn't aged for more than a year like the one I had in Wales, this was still a damn good bottle of beer and well worth this $8-per-bottle price tag. It was a great way to spend a Sunday back in the Central Valley.

The rain jacket I took with me to Ireland absolutely reeks with the combined odor of wood smoke, sweat, dirt and manure. I unfolded it at the dry cleaners on the counter, and the odor made me take a step back. It served a useful purpose and I'm fortunate to have had it, but, damn, that was an awful smell. Fortunately, I have no pictures of the smell.

Los Angeles and a difficult trek into Ireland

21/12 - Los Angeles is a massive, smoggy, traffic-infested metropolis. There's trash everywhere, Spanish is prominent and lots of murals on building walls. Thankfully, Stephanie and Juan have given me a place to stay and are showing me around for the day I'm here.

They live in a small studio behind Juan's mother's house in San Fernando. You have to walk up the driveway, open the gate to the back and dodge the barking German shepherd (it bit a burglar, so the burglar sued the family for not having a Beware of Dog sign. The burglar won). Inside their studio is a cozy loft that makes excellent use of what little space there is, and a young, male cat that loves to run around the room and play fetch with a ball. I'm basically Couchsurfing, but not really. 

Today I walked for miles in an unglamorous part of West Hollywood. Stephanie and I wandered around, got some Guatemalan empanadas and rode the bus and subway (which I didn't even know LA has). It's been a while since I pounded the pavement of a strange city, so both of my knees are a bit swollen and sore, maybe because of slight tendonitis. 

I dislike Los Angeles. There are too many cars and sitting in traffic is a large chunk of your day. But on the way back to Stephanie's place, life got a little bit slower as we walked on the railroad tracks, something so simple yet so powerful when having an adventure. 

But for dinner, I got a taste of eating with a Mexican family. You'll continually be served chorizo tacos and quesadillas until you waive them off, unable to eat more. But our meal time was fast paced, as we ate while cooking more at the same time. So thanks to Juan and Stephanie for making my short stay in Los Angeles enjoyable. Both were great hosts and I hope I left a good impression.

As for LAX and Ethiopian Airlines...shoot me. The system for that airline crashed, so all of the tickets and information was processed by hand. I don't know exactly how long I was standing in the check-in line, but it was easily 90 minutes. I've never experienced anything like that, and I'll try not to ever use this airline again. Imagine that kind of frustration! And imagine the only time you ever arrive at the airport about three hours early, this happens.

22/12 - In hindsight, Ethiopian Airlines is fine. They did the best they could do with a crashed system. The plane was clean and the food was quality for the most part. It was a chilled out flight. I can't talk trash about the airline now. But...

I'M IN IRELAND!

My trip seems to be hitting more snags than usual, as I was held back at customs because I don't have a work permit for this WorkAway adventure. The customs officer had to walk away with my passport twice to verify information. At one point, he asked me how much money I have and what I'd do if I had to catch the flight back to Los Angeles that night. The thought of possibly getting deported back to America made my head explode.

But after verifying that I have a return flight back to America on Jan. 2, a place to stay in Dublin for the night and that I work for the Porterville Recorder (the officer pulled up one of my stories on his computer), I was free to go, but not before I had to take a mugshot. The Irish government is watching me now.

Because of that, I had to stop in the airport pub and have a Guinness, which tastes much better in Ireland. I've heard more Irish accents in the past few hours than I have in the past year in England. Besides the accent, though, it really isn't that much different from the United Kingdom.

Walking around looking for basic supplies, I had that stupid smirk on my face again which usually is the result of being in a new country. I'm stoked! This is the 16th country I've visited in 2015, and it's already started off with a great story. The next 10 days should be a blast. Not even my right knee, which feels a little bit stiff and swollen, will ruin that. I'm also looking forward to blogging regularly again. Hopefully it inspires others.