So I’m back from Ireland, and I wish I was still there. As you may or may not recall, I was going there with my two sisters for an all too short vacation.
We arrived on Tuesday, the 27[sup]th[/sup] of April and drove to our hotel in Dublin. Don’t drive in Dublin. At the hotel I phoned jjim and we made plans to meet at a pub. I’d be the guy wearing a baseball cap with as Spam logo, and two blondes.
We walked over and visited the Book of Kells and saw our destination pub on the way, luckily, and walked there at something close to the appointed time. I was approached by a mysterious-looking woman who asked, “Do you know Cecil Adams?” “Yes,” I replied. “I’m Kat.” (Or was it Cat?) We ended up meeting Kat, Twist of Fate, jjim, yojimbo, and M. (whose user name I simply cannot recall :smack: ) Then we drank until I had to cover one eye to figure out which person I was talking to.
We were taken to Mulligan’s, and got to see one of the back rooms where independence was planned and carried out. It was definately the right way to start off the trip. We had a fantastic time.
Next day took us on a tour of Dublin via bus, with stops at Dublin Castle, the Guinness Brewery (sp?), and Kilmainham jail. We got a late start that day and didn’t have time for more. Guinness was almost a waste of time—it isn’t a tour of the brewery, but rather a bad museum. The section of advertising was cool, but ultimately the visit is worth going to because at the top of the building is a bar that has an unobstructed view of almost all of Dublin. The elevators being the only part that isn’t glass, one gets to see the whole city from there. I was lucky, however, in that I needed a light jacket (my wind-breaker not being sufficient) but couldn’t find anything in the States that wasn’t butt-ugly. Sure enough, marked half-off, there was a jacket with a little Guinness logo on it. Just what I was needing!
The next day took us to Glendalough (I’m not going to sweat the spelling right now, it’s before work and I don’t have time to be too thorough). There we visited St. Kevin. Very old church, graveyard, monks’ tower, etc., and then up to Kevin’s Cell. Across the lake we spied a stone building on the mountain side through my sister’s telephoto camera lense. The woman at the info building claimed it was a rock formation; we spent the rest of the trip expecting to be abducted by leprachauns in black. From there we visited St. Kevin’s Church (IIRC), a working church built when Catholics were finally allowed to do so in the 19th century.
We stayed the night in Rathdrum and visited the home of C.S. Parnell. At the pub we met an Aussie couple who were staying in the same B&B, and ended up drinking until I had to cover an eye. Evidently the guy & I walked out without paying, because I have a vague memory of giving money to a bar maid while standing on the sidewalk.
The next day took us to Arthurstown, by way of the Irish Heritage Park, or something like that, just outside of Wexford. (I’m not working from notes, so some of this may be messed up.) The Heritage Park has reconstructions of dwellings of inhabitants of the island from prehistoric times to the Normans. They lime-washed their castles so that they stood out white against the countryside. It was very striking, even if it wasn’t a real castle. I enjoyed the visit quite a bit.
That night was a slow night and we crashed fairly early. The next day we picked out about 20 things to see on the way to Blarney. We stopped to visit Reginald’s Tower in Waterford and the woman behind the counter advised us to see Cahir Castle, the Rock of Cashel, and Swiss Cottage. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to the Swiss Cottage, but Cahir Castle was fun, though we couldn’t get up on the high battlements, and the Rock of Cashel was amazing. We also walked over to Hore Abbey from the Rock. Google for images of those and you will see what I’m talking about.
We arrived late in Blarney. “Late” being about 7:30pm. We took a quick visit to Blarney Castle and the Blarney Woolen Company the next morning. Blarney was the most littered and graffitied castle we visited. It was over-run by Americans, but it was not the most need-to-see thing there, by any stretch. The Rock of Cashel is pretty amazing. From there we drove to Killarney and checked into our B&B. We visited Ross Castle, which was also a very cool castle to visit. After that we went to Killarney proper which, because there was a road rally on a Bank-Holiday-Weekend Sunday, was open late. We walked the streets; the town was over-run by people who looked like thugs & prostitutes. We were reliably informed that was the road-rally crowd. We got to see some guy puke on his pleading girlfriend—he looked like he was on his way to pick a fight when his stomach advised him otherwise. We stopped at a posh-looking bar with live music and relaxed. One thing I really enjoyed in England and Wales was walking around town and looking at people/stores/things. I love the historic sites; but, that’s not how the actual people live today.
Earlier, I had purchased a 5-Euro photo from a street vendor and we happened to pass by again—this time the photographer was there rather than his girlfriend. He sent us to Murphy’s to get dinner. It was packed, so we drank and waited until we could get a seat. There we had a great meal and a great time. There was a waitress who looked like a natural red-headed Shalom Harlow. That was my third near-terminal plotzing on the trip. The other two being caused by black-haired, green-eyed beauties. “Fortunately” my eldest sister has an allergy to alcohol and, since the car was automatic, she could drive us back to the B&B.
The next day took us to the Dingle Peninsula. Eve was right: It is another must-see. In Dingle proper I was able to pick up a hurl & ball, plus a hurl for my friend to whom I promised a shillaleigh (sp?). (Thanks Twist of Fate.) There we did get to see some cows being herded and after that I really wanted to get what we called a Cow Whacking Stick. Picture an überstereotypical Irish walking stick, e.g. one of those black-thorn ones, and that’s it. Now imagine using it to get a cow’s attention away from some sheep in a pen, and get the hapless bovine across the street. (I use “cow” generically—they may have been steer??) I was going to have trouble enough getting my hurl home (it took a serious beating in luggage) and adding a Cow Whacking Stick to the problem wouldn’t make it any easier. I regret not having been able to pick one up, even if I only saw them sold at tourist gift shops.
Dingle Peninsula is a great drive, and the weather was fine. We saw our first rain that day, but not much and it was otherwise beautiful. The road signs are Gaelic-only. Luck for us our map gave English & Irish!! Definately go to Dingle. Visit OPW sites, since they’re gov’t maintained and have some credibility. The exception being Dunbrody Abbey, which I forgot to tell you about and which we visited a couple of days earlier. We drove Connor’s Pass and got to our place in Castlegregory. By “in,” I mean a few minutes drive. On the advice of Catherine O’C., the woman who gave us the heads-up at Reginald’s Tower, we went to Ned’s Bar in Castlegregory. This you must do. The owner, Vincent, show us a Very Good Time. It started slow, it being a bank-holiday monday on the “shoulder” season (i.e. not the off-season and not the tourist season). We moved closer to the fire and in the bar was the Vince, two old dudes, and a barmaid. She left and another one came on shift. We ended up talking to Vince when my sister had me ask how old the place was. One of the old dudes gave us the compulsory “I know more American history than you do” quiz—my knowledge of which President signed the Treaty of Tripoly had no effect on him.
There was supposed to be music there that night. By the time the accordian player showed up, we were all laughing and telling jokes and getting drunk. Four or five Londoners rounded out the crowd that night, along with Vincent’s wife a bit later. Vince went to get his guitar and came back with a crazy wig, fake glasses, and a fake nose and mustache. He was also carrying a trombone he bought for three pounds. We all played “music” together, inasmuch the noise we made qualified as music. It turns out that he knows the same Catherine who sent us there, and he & his wife had recently seen Catherine & her husband on holiday! What luck! That was a night to rival the night with the Dublin Dopers. My sides hurt from laughing.
Last day took us to Bunratty, near the Shannon airport. Fortunately, it was an easy drive to the airport, since we were leaving early the next morning. We skirted around Limerick since I was deathly afraid that it would be another Dublin in terms of driving. Ireland is not like the States where you can take I-75 through Detroit. We were doing okay until we met a directional sign that had been misaligned by the wind. But we made it to Bunratty and even go to visit Crag Cave on the trip. We went to the Bunratty Castle and the Bunratty Folk Park. The park is a reconstruction of a 19th century village. And we went to a Traditional Irish Something-or-other that included dinner and a show. We sat with some folk from New Zeland. It was good to see the dancing & singing & such.
The night made me think of the Two Irelands. yojimbo had told me how not too long ago, Ireland was classified as a third-world country, and the Irish said “up yours” to the EU tax policy and became industry friendly. This economic growth brought Ireland to first-status, to Ireland’s benefit. At the Irish Night, the master of ceremony began by saying that Ireland is a place of custom & tradition. We saw a lot of new development as we drove the country side. In some sense it was sad to see; but, on the other hand it was good to see evidence of a rising standard of living. I live in a place where what the people actually think and how they actually live is immaterial to the desires of those who come to visit and move here. What they want is a place that satisfies their imaginary vision of small-town America, and they’ll be damned if they’ll accept that their vision is inaccurate or detrimental to the people here. I can’t imagine living in a whole country that is seasonally over-run by throngs of tourists who want the entire nation to remain a theme-park based on their image of what Ireland should be.
, I was with people who refused to set a schedule for anything. Maybe next time. I loved Dingle! Whenever I think about Ireland I think of Dingle. Did you get to Dick Mack’s, and that hardware store/bar? Now I want to go back. I like Guinness, but I can only drink one and I feel too full. I drank a lot more beer over there when I switched from Guinness to a lighter beer.