Notes on a Friendly Kidnapping (Part 1)

A mere 28 days before my 20^th birthday, Ari, Jared, and I set out for a backpacking trip through random, but mostly northern European countries. We started in Scotland where I met Lukas just three hours after arriving, became fixated on him, and then scolded myself, letting me know right now that we aren’t having devastating crushes on every fella we meet. “It’s day one for goodness sake!”

 Indeed I crushed on no others and maintained a steady and insulting email conversation with Lukas throughout the whole venture. Ah, a budding romance!

We then carried on to Ireland before flying to Sweden to stay with Ari’s family on the most unexpectedly beautiful island. We dropped down to Copenhagen to celebrate that 20^th birthday and then finished our trek with a few days in and around Amsterdam –now don’t you worry, I’m a good kid.

Back in Ireland we spent a few days wandering around Dublin before crossing the small country with a three-hour bus ride to the west coast. This is the very bus ride that tested my bladder against all odds and very nearly came out on top. We stayed in Galway for quite sometime, choosing to forgo a trip south to Dingle to save time and money. We struggled to fill our extra days in Galway as we waited for our flight to Sweden. Some desperate Internet research led Ari to discovering a petting zoo just three miles out of the next town. We took a bus to that town and to this day we don't know how to pronounce it. It sounded like a growl if a growl started with an ‘L’.

We set out on foot from the bus stop and trekked through light rain along the curbless, Irish highway. Cars and trucks bolted past us while we barreled straight across roundabouts in a panic. Our three miles turned into to four with no sign of the zoo. It occurred to me that petting a pig might not be worth a dangerous, four mile highway jaunt in the rain but we were too far along and I didn’t want to be the one to say so. With cars whizzing past us, we got off the highway to look for a place to stop and ask for directions. Jared led the pack down a narrow, rural road. He plowed confidently towards nothing while Ari and I followed behind, pressing our bodies into the road’s stone wall lining when a car would rush by. The road was clearly not made for pedestrians and we found ourselves running the blind curves, for no car would see us in time to hit the wall instead of us. Another mile went by and Ari became concerned. I was also concerned, but I was panicking silently so as not to alarm others.

We finally saw a house in the distance and elected Jared to ring the doorbell. “I don’t want to tell them we wandered all the way here for a petting zoo!” he exclaimed, but he sauntered up to the door the way only Jared can and rang the doorbell. Ari and I stood at the base of the yard by the road, pretending to be thoroughly invested in a conversation to make ourselves seem more casual. We waited. Jared rang again and got no answer. “So what do we do?” I asked as though I hadn’t already pictured our corpses being pecked at by vultures.

We elected to walk the five miles back to the bus stop. I entertained Jared and myself greatly with an improvised history of the area but Ari seemed less amused. She’s always been much more sensible. After a mile or so, a lone car headed our way. We debated flagging it down but we were already headed back and who knows who might be inside. The car stopped just behind us anyways and we all turned cautiously. Out jumped a little lady with a short brown bob and round glasses. “W’ere ya headed?” she asked abruptly but with a smile. Ari and I waited for Jared to talk. He admitted that we were on the prowl for the petting zoo. “Oh the Turoe Stone in the pettin’ farm. It’s a few kilometers up the way. S’really not worf looking but I’ll taik ya after I pick up me boy.”

She blurted this out very quickly and had all the doors to her car open before she finished talking. We didn’t say anything. We were all taught not to get in cars with strangers. She insisted. We claimed we didn’t mind walking but she told us it was too far and we were going to be disappointed when we finally got there. “The stone aint worf looking at.” she kept saying. We didn’t know what she was talking about but it was much less embarrassing than admitting this was all so we could coo at goats. She nearly demanded we get in her car and after much arguing that took place only between the looks we gave each other, we climbed in.